


U Hrair / The Thousand

by digitalcatnip



Series: The Hrair [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Child Abandonment, F/F, Gang Violence, Gen, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by Watership Down, Lots of lapine here but there's footnotes! Hopefully they work!, More gratuitous use of accents, Organized Crime, Other, Some VERY mild transphobia, mild drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalcatnip/pseuds/digitalcatnip
Summary: It was blissful, drifting away like this after gods know how long awake.  Sleep wrapped itself around her mind like a warm, dark blanket, pulling her underneath the surface and deep into a dream.  The storm beat a steady rhythm on the walls, the wind knocking the window glass against its poorly-fitted frame, like a creature desperately trying to get in.LIke a creature desperately trying to get in.---Tilly is a mid-ranking manager in the rabbit-centric organized crime syndicate known as "the Hrair" who had a comfortable enough life running nightclubs in downtown, until a buck shows up mostly dead on her doorstep with a kit in his arms, throwing her into a gang war she never asked to fight.
Series: The Hrair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774540
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2017-2018. Inspired by Watership Down and the Yakuza video game series, and almost all characters are based on mine and my friends' actual real life rabbits (I am a farmer and breed rabbits for meat/fur/show ;) ) I'd never written a mystery before but it was a really fun challenge and taught me a lot about keeping notes and organizational skills :p

“Sunny and beautiful on this Saturday morning, with a high of twenty-nine and a slight chance of showers this evening. If y’all are heading to the beach today, make sure you bring sunscreen for any pink noses and plenty of water. And if you’re lookin’ for something fun to do tonight, head over to Pier 19 for our summer concert series, I’ll be there along with my co-host Tannis-”

“This is yer stop,” said the driver, turning the radio down slightly.

The petite cream-furred rabbit doe handed off a couple of technicolour two-leaf bills, which were replaced with a few coins in change. She dipped her head in thanks as she slid out of the seat, sucking in a lungful of air that was already humid. She pushed her sleeves up above her elbows, where the fur changed to gray, and pushed the key into the door of the back door of the old, unassuming office building.

Dust motes swirled in the sunbeams filtered through half-closed shades as she stepped in, letting the door swing shut behind her. A velvet-furred finger pressed the button on the coffee maker as she passed by the bar, and it bubbled to life with a gurgling hiss. She slid a cartridge into its slot and pressed the mechanism closed, and in seconds she was rewarded with a steaming cup of something that barely passed for coffee, but contained enough caffeine to wake her up.

Tilly had come to the office early, hoping to make headway on the mountain of paperwork she should have had done last week but had instead just put off. Paperwork like order forms and payroll that just needed signatures were one thing, but this was shit she actually needed to sit and read, and so it remained untouched until now. Her boss was starting to breathe down her neck, and she figured she should handle it before she got yelled at, or worse. And so she turned on some music, lit a cigarette, licked the tip of her pen, and set to work.

She lasted about ten minutes before she thought her brain was going to leak out of her ears and drip on the paperwork she was trying to read. This job had to be the most boring shit on the planet. She’d always heard the _hlessil_ [[1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56268382#note1)] talk about living for the weekend, but she’d never really understood what it meant before she’d been promoted from working the street to a desk job as manager of one of the warren’s front businesses. She didn’t even know jack shit about real estate; most of the real work was done by her floor manager, a guy who actually cared about what was going on.

She yawned. Time for more coffee.

It was mid-afternoon when the chime of the back door being opened pulled Tilly out of the boredom-induced trance she’d found herself in.

“We’re closed,” she called out, craning her neck to see who was coming on.

“Then why da back door unlocked?” came a familiar voice from the sitting area.

A stout black lop doe with soft brown eyes stepped through the door to Tilly’s office, one hand on her hip. She wore a black-on-black business suit, a platinum pin set in her lapel. Though it was hidden, Tilly knew that in her left ear was a tattoo of a four-leaf clover, with a small gold crown just above its highest leaf - the mark of the Rah.

“Aw, I was hopin’ it was someone come to kill me so I didn’t have to deal with all this goddamn paperwork,” Tilly said, leaning back in her chair.

“It’d be a shame to ruin alla my nice furniture,” Chloe said, sliding out of her jacket and draping over the back of a nearby chair. “I paid a lotta money for all dis, y’know.”

“Oh, glad to know the only thing keepin’ me alive is a couple of three-leaf chairs,” Tilly droned, smiling from the corner of her mouth. She offered Chloe a cigarette, and lit it for her when it was accepted. “So, whatcha actually here for?”

“I gotta new job for ya, if ya want it. Ya know Juliet Riversong? Short, gray, lop, gotta lil bit of a mohwak an’ a viper tattoo but dresses like she a power lawyer from da ‘80s?”

An image wasn’t coming. Half the warren had lop ears, and anyone in a management position or higher usually wore business casual on a near daily basis. Tilly shrugged and shook her head.

“A’ight, well. She manages a bar in Riverside, across the Cato. It’s more of a pub, though, I guess? Pretty low-key, mostly regulars, dat kinna stuff.”

Tilly tilted her head to one side. “We have territory on that side of the river?”

“Jus’ dat lil square, really. Been tryna expand out of Narn-Hain for a while but dat’s ‘bout all we’ve got so far, an’ I think we could be doin’ a lot more over there n’ sellin’ booze to nine-to-fives, yeah? I think it’s ‘bout time we get in on the nightlife. Hookers n’ blow, that kinda stuff.”

“So then why ain’t Juliet on it? If she’s the only rabbit over there, she must be pretty capable.”

Chloe twirled her cigarette between her fingers. “‘Cause I’m tryna promote _you_ , dumbass.”

Tilly blinked. “Oh.”

Chloe smiled in this knowing way she had, like just by looking at you she knew all your secrets and wouldn’t judge you for them. “Don’t worry, yer girl’s goin’ too. I ain’t mean enough to separate the two of ya. Soon as I’m done here I’m headed to her boss’ place.”

Tilly dropped her hands to the desk, feigning a sigh. “Well, you sold me. Make sure the place goes to someone competent - not that I care that much about it, to be honest. I never was good at real estate.”

“I know,” Chloe laughed. “If it makes ya feel better, y’ain’t the worst manager I seen.”

She stood, sliding her jacket back on to leave. She paused in the door, turning back around the face Tilly, who was starting to gather up what few personal effects she had. “Oh, Tilly. Make sure ya shut the windows before ya leave. I hear it’s supposed ta rain tonight.”

  
  
  
  
  


Tilly woke up the next morning to her downstairs neighbour’s apartment submerged under three feet of stinking, brown water. From her balcony, Tilly could see the houses at the bottom of the hill were little more than roofs poking out from beneath the surface.

The storm had caused the river to rise to record heights, the radio said. They’d had to open the damn to keep it from breaking under the pressure.

It took two days for them to find Chloe’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Literally, a rabbit without a hole/warren. The Hrair term for a civilian.  [ return to text ]


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, double chapter post since the first chapter was a prologue! Update schedule is weekly on Wednesdays!

Tilly sprinted down the concrete walkway, flattening her ears against her shoulders, silently cursing whoever built this bar and didn’t put an awning over the fucking door. The rain was soaking through the fabric of her blazer, pools blooming on her shoulders, and turning her normally smooth, velveteen fur into ugly wet clumps.

Lightning flashed overhead, the roll of thunder following shortly after. The early spring rains had outstayed their welcome days ago. Water filled the cracks in the pavement, so much of it that even the heavy smell of old gasoline and smoke was almost entirely washed away. Oil-slicked puddled reflected the neon city lights, assaulting the eyes now from below as well as above as figures hunched under umbrellas and coats quickly made their way to their destinations.

Tilly wove through waterfalls streaming from overfilled gutters above her and pushed open the bar’s door and ducking inside. Inside it was warm, and she shivered at the difference in temperature as she shook drops from her fur.

The bar’s interior was old-fashioned - wood booths and brass light fixtures, and an antique solid-wood bar top lacquered to a near-blinding shine. The only modern things in the place were the register behind the bar, and two flat-screen TVs mounted above the stone fireplace, playing sports on mute to a group of college bucks on their day off, already rowdy despite it being early in the evening.

The chocolate-furred bartender was leaning forward on his elbows, chatting up two does sitting across from him on ornate stools. The hazy gold light reflected off his satin-shiny fur, illuminating like some kind of glittering copper deity, and Tilly was more than ready to drink at his ethanol-soaked altar. When he saw her, he looked up and flashed her that million-leaf smile, and Tilly could practically see the does melt in their seats.

“Whatcha havin’?” he asked, already reaching underneath the bar.

“The usual,” Tilly said, sliding into a seat. “Neat.”

He nodded, setting a perfectly polished glass onto the bar top and quickly filled it from a bottle of scotch that looked less expensive than it was. “Rough day?”  
Tilly downed half the glass in response. The bartender nodded knowingly, refilling the glass before returning the cork to the bottle and setting it back beneath the bar.

The whiskey now having wet her throat a little, Tilly produced her pack of cigarettes from her blazer pocket and set one between her teeth. Automatically the bartender flipped open his lighter, setting the flame against the tip.

She gave him a teasing smile. “You gotta cut that formal shit out, Tenchie. You’re makin’ me feel old.”

“Oh my god, is she your _boss_ ?” One of the does at the bar crooned, leaning forward on her elbows, pushing her dewlap up around her chin, eyes half closed. “I didn’t realize this was one of _those_ bars.” She grinned. “I like a little danger in my life.”

Ten tucked the lighter back into his apron. “Aw, it’s not dangerous. Tassadar is a good enough bouncer, so it doesn’t ever really get rowdy.”

The doe leaned in closer. “No, I mean like...your _other_ job.”

Ten cocked his head. “I don’t have another job.”

The second doe rolled her eyes and leaned around her friend. “Oh come on, stop jerkin’ us around. You lit her cigarette! Nobody just like, does that. So come on, where’s your tattoo?”

“Tatt- Ohh.” Tilly could almost hear the sound of the gears in Ten’s brain clunking into place. “I don’t have one yet. We’re still workin’ it out with the artist.”

“Ooh, so you’re new! Gosh, I’d’ve thought a big buck like you woulda been half a manager by now,” the first doe purred.

Ten laughed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Everyone tells me I look older than I am. Take after my dad, I guess.”

“Was he Hrair, too?”

Ten nodded, and Tilly could see his face light up a little at the thought of his sire. He didn’t know it yet, but Tilly had heard through the grapevine that the tattoo that Ten would soon display in his left ear would be the same as the one his father had worn before he died. 

They were a lot alike, Ten and his sire, both the defining picture of a Hrair buck. Tall, strong, loyal to a fault. Adún had been a role model for every ___silfessi__ [[2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56269762#note2)] _ under him, and the sun had barely risen on Ten’s legal birthday before he was in Tilly’s office begging her to take him across the river to give the warren his ear.

The fist doe leaned forward closer, the dark spots around her eyes giving her the appearance of wearing makeup. “Gosh, I’ve always wanted to fuck a Hrair buck.”

Ten choked, his train of thought not just grinding to a halt, but skipping the track entirely and crashing down the mountainside. The bottle of whiskey he’d just started to pour tipped too far, amber liquid sloshing out of the glass and onto the bar top. He stared at the drops of liquid for far too long before he realized he needed to clean it up.

The bell over the front door rang, and through it squeezed a heavyset doe with a cherry blossom in her ear, shaking water from her ears. Water spots were blooming across the shoulders of her red silk shirt.

Despite the fact that Ten’s fur was the colour of chocolate and this doe’s was jet black and flecked with silver, the resemblance between mother and son was obvious when they stood in the same room. They shared the same square jaw and wide ears, and even the same deep, honey-smooth quality to their voices.

Tilly smiled around her whiskey, but her eyes were sharp. “Hey Rasz, nice to see you finally make an appearance.”

Raszagal’s chin disappeared into her enormous dewlap as she slid into the seat next to Tilly. “Listen, I had a lot goin’ on today; you better be glad I got here at all.”

“You say you have a lot goin’ on every day, Rasz.”

“Yeah, well. I had a doctor’s appointment.”

Ten was twisting a rabbit-ear bottle opener into the cork of a bottle of his mother’s favourite wine, but stopped as Raszagal held a hand up.

Tilly noticed immediately. Her eyes dropped to Raszagal’s midsection, even though she knew there wouldn’t be much to see. “Doctor’s appointment, huh. Who’s the lucky buck?”

More of Raszagal’s face disappeared. “One of the guys who works at the steel plant.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry, Tilly, I-”

Tilly shrugged. “Why’re you sorry? I ain’t gonna tell you you can’t have kits.”

“Yeah, but...maternity breaks an’ all that shit. Plus, ain’t nobody gonna wanna look at this in a few months,” she waved her hands around her midsection, imitating the curve that her belly would no doubt have very, very soon.

Tilly took a long drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke away from Raszagal’s face. “Look, I’m about to hire at least three new does for your club anyway - what’s one more? If you’re worried about your rent, you can take some shifts here once you start showing; ain’t no buck in _this_ bar eyeing the waitresses. I’m not gonna let your landlord kick you outta your house, okay? So chill out. Stressing like that is gonna give your kits weird teeth.”

Raszagal gave her a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“Now,” Tilly said, clapping a hand to Raszagal’s shoulder. “You should get in the back and talk to Juliet before you head down the road.”

Raszagal groaned, but dragged herself out of the barstool and through the office door nonetheless.

Tilly finished her cigarette and flicked the butt into one of the ashtrays set on the bar as she stood up, stretching to her full height - a grand total of shoulder-height to any other rabbit in the room. 

She winked up at Ten. “Keep it in your pants ‘til after close, alright? I don’t need angry customers bangin’ on my door ‘cause you’ve been in the back for ten minutes.”

His ears flushed again, and his mouth opened in protest, but she had already turned away and walked off towards the office, his protests fading away into the background noise.

When the office door shut behind her, Tilly let herself relax, leaning her head back against the door. It wasn’t like it was loud outside on the floor, but there was something about two inches of solid wood and a “No Entry” sign that soothed her sleep-deprived mind. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, before pushing away from the door.

A husky gray lop doe looked up from a huge ledger book set on a desk so massive and ornate that it made Juliet seem even smaller than she actually was. Her fur peaked between her wide, drooped ears, an odd juxtaposition with her sharply tailored suit and crisp white shirt. She looked like she would fit in better at a high-rise office building - at least until she opened her mouth, and the thick Lapine accent rolled out, instantly pegging her as old Hrair blood.

“Ay, Tilly, ya got someone turn in another application,” she said, holding out a sheet of paper.

Tilly took the sheet, glancing over the details, chewing on the inside of her cheek absently. She tasted blood. “How’d you feel about her, Jules?”

Juliet shrugged, settling back into her oversized office chair. “She look more like a mouse n’ a rabbit, but she got a huge ass dewlap so maybe it’d make up for it. Like, she look like her sister do pageants, y’know? Like it’s _almost_ there but jus’ not in da right concentrations.”

Tilly gave her a look. Juliet was not exactly a tactful rabbit. In fact, Tilly had learned shortly after moving to this job that part of the reasons Juliet had previously been in Riverside mostly alone is because she kept getting into fight with her superiors. Chloe had said she wanted Tilly on this side of the river to spearhead expansion into the red-light district, but Tilly couldn’t help but think that there was ulterior motive at play. Namely, “someone please put this doe in her place before she gets herself murdered.” Tilly wasn’t sure she’d managed to tame the beast, but so far at least, Juliet had settled into her role as second in command relatively easily.

“Speakin’ of which, how’s your sister? I saw she has a new movie comin’ out in a few months. The trailer looked pretty good.”

She couldn’t hear it, but she could tell Juliet was grinding her teeth. She had that big round lop face with those cheeks you can’t help but want to pinch, and they puffed out when she got mad, which is exactly what was happening now. It reminded Tilly of an angry kit. Kind of adorable, actually.

“She doin’ fine,” Juliet said, forcing herself to be polite.

“Next time you talk to her, see if she can hook me up with tickets.” Tilly handed back the application. “And call this one in for an interview. Let Rasz do it if she wants to.”

Juliet held Tilly’s eye for a moment, instantly picking up on the thinly veiled slight she had received. However, she said nothing, and simply tipped her head and turned back to her ledger. “Yes ma’am.”

Tilly patted her shoulder. “Thanks, Jules.”

Begrudgingly, Tilly turned her attention now to her own desk, and the stack of bills and ordering forms sitting upon it. Which, Tilly thought wryly, she had come to Riverside to get away from, not deal with more of.

It had been almost a year since she’d packed up her little apartment in Narn-Hain and moved across the river. The jump from rolling farmland to neon lights and high-rises was dramatic to say the least. Everything was so bright, so noisy. A chronic insomniac even at the best of times, she’d had to buy blackout shades to keep her room dark enough for her to _maybe_ get some sleep, and a huge ugly box fan to drown out the sounds of cars on the street below.

At least work was fine. The bar was usually easygoing; a big Hrair buck behind the counter and Juliet in the office worked brilliantly to keep troublemakers at bay. The bar was just a front, however. The real work was the handful of nightlife businesses that Tilly and Juliet had snapped up in the past few months. It was small, but steady expansion for the warren, and, like Chloe had predicted, was becoming very profitable very fast. Turns out, sex sells, and rabbits as a species tended to be obsessed with it.

All these businesses meant a shit-ton of contracts and employee paperwork and change of ownership forms that she had to read at least three times to make sure she wasn’t getting shafted by some shady street gang boss. Tilly was grateful for the excuse to leave her desk to help close up after midnight rolled around and the sound of voices stopped drifting up from underneath the door. Her neck was stiff and she’s smoked too much just for something to do, and even doing dishes was better than another ream of budget outlines.

The two does were still at the bar, the spotted one’s ears flushed with fruity cocktails, her friend sipping on a glass of water, smiling in that half-lidded way that one only achieves when they’re buzzed.

“Go ahead and head home when you get done, Ten,” Tilly said, squeezing around him with a trayful of clean glasses to place beneath the bar. “Me n’ Juliet can lock up without you.”

“You sure? I still need to restock the fridge and-”

Tilly cut him off, tossing her head toward the does at the bar. “I can handle it. Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting.”

Tilly suspected that the low bow he dropped into was at least half to hide the way his ears lit up like holiday lights.

  
  
  
  
  
  


There was a blessed pause in the rain as Tilly stepped out of the bar’s back door and locked both the knob and the deadbolt behind her. Everyone else had left hours ago, leaving her to sort the safe and finish off her paperwork alone. It was relatively quiet in the backlot of the building, and Tilly took the moment to light her last cigarette, inhaling deeply and savouring the moment before she stepped out of the alley and into the main street.

The city of Lynfort never slept, neon signs and halogen headlights still burning bright even now in the wee hours of the morning. Crowds of tourists, off-duty factory workers, and college kits roamed the sidewalks, looking to drink away of the previous week’s disappointments and the coming week’s deadlines. The sounds of conversation and street barkers blended with the rush of water in the gutters, and the engines of cars flying through packed streets.

Even though it was a far cry from where she’d come from, she liked it here in the city. It was more like the Hrair life you saw on TV - flashy, exciting, full of underground businesses and debauchery, ducking into secret basement-level nightclubs thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of sex.

Not a single building in Riverside wasn’t owned by some syndicate or another - the cats owned the high-rises, the rabbits the sex trade, the dogs the black market, the raccoons the drugs. Somehow they all fit together harmoniously in the puzzle, and gang violence was uncommon outside of scraps in alleyways and quick beef usually shut down by the higher-ups within days.

She knew the faces and organizations of nearly every thug sat slouched in alleyways, tipping their chins at one another as she passed by. Some looked with wary eyes, others curled their lips into sneers, and one barely legal buck with a fresh street tattoo thumped his foot against the wall and she broke his nose in response. His companions howled at his misfortune as Tilly shot them double-bird and shouted an insult in Lapine as she left, itching for more.

Tilly found N’rithaa shirtless in the center of a ring of shouting spectators in a basement parking lot with her hands around the throat of a sour-looking hare jill, blood covering her knuckles and smeared across the hare’s cheek. The fluorescent light cast harsh shadows all around, glinting off of N’rithaa’s gold-flecked fur, highlighting the roll of her muscles under skin as her fist connected with the hare’s face, eliciting another rising cheer from the crowd. The hare tried to kick N’rithaa’s feet out from under her, but the rabbit simply outclassed her in every way. Five more seconds and the hare had tapped, and bills were passed around the ring to the winners.

“So, how much did you get?” Tilly asked after N’rithaa had shouldered her way through and grabbed a bottle of water off of the bar.

“Enough to buy a few rounds,” N’rithaa said, thumbing through the bills she’d been given by the bookie. “I think they wanted me to throw it, but c’mon, they put me against _Soave._ That bitch’s been havin’ it comin’ for weeks. I coulda gone even harder, but I’m really just here for the warm-up before hitting the streets for work.”

“You want a little backup? I can’t sleep.”

N’rithaa grinned a mad rabbit’s grin, and tossed Tilly a roll of hand wraps.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly had no idea what time it was when she finally lurched through the door of her apartment, sore in all the right places and absolutely bone-soaked by the storm that came back with a vengeance in the middle of her and N’rithaa’s late-night escapades. She peeled off her wet clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket, feeling around in the dark for something to dry her fur off with, unable to find a towel and settling instead for a dirty t-shirt from the laundry instead. It smelled like weed.

She threw the shirt back into the laundry pile and rubbed her face with her hands, putting the fur back where it’s supposed to be, pulling on her ears. The pale glow of the sun on the horizon was hidden by the storm and the city around her, but Tilly could feel it in the hollow around her eyes that the day was nearly beginning. How many days had she been awake? She couldn’t remember. 

An unsettling hum filled the air as the power indicator lights on her various electronics flickered, an enormous crack of thunder shaking the walls. 

Her nails slid on the hardwood floor as she made her way to the mattress on the floor that she called her bed, more to rest her body than an attempt to actually sleep, but within minutes she felt the edges of her consciousness being tugged by something in the shadows. Her body fought it, desperate to stay in control, but the lull of the rain and the ache in her muscles mixed into a cocktail of just the right potency to have her eyelids growing heavy within minutes.

It was blissful, drifting away like this after gods know how long awake. Sleep wrapped itself around her mind like a warm, dark blanket, pulling her underneath the surface and deep into a dream. The storm beat a steady rhythm on the walls, the wind knocking the window glass against its poorly-fitted frame, like a creature desperately trying to get in.

LIke a creature desperately trying to get in.

An ethereal hand reached down into the depths of her slumber and yanked her soul back into her body, a slimy, crawling feeling that jolted her awake. Something was clawing at the door of her apartment, scraping down the peeling aluminum surface like a scene from a horror film.

The effort of pulling herself out of bed was herculean at best, groaning at the stiffness in her arms even after what had only felt like seconds of sleep. The world followed half a second behind her body as she fumbled for a knife on her kitchen counter, holding it behind her back with one hand while the other struggled with the deadbolt, the door chain, the knob. She didn’t realize the scratching had stopped.

The door opened inward, dragging a swath of mud and water onto the floor. Tilly stared at the mess at her feet for a heartbeat too long before realizing that it was raining into her entryway.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see on her doorstep, but it wasn’t a red-furred buck on his knees, one hand vainly attempting to stop the cascade of blood pouring from a gaping hole in his shoulder, the other clutching a terrified kit to his chest.

“Aw, fuck,” she breathed, dropping the knife on the floor. “Listen, man, I don’t-”

The buck tried to push himself to his feet, grabbing into the doorframe with enough force to leave claw marks in the wood. One leg didn’t seem to bear weight, and he fell to his knees again, knocking the kit away from him with his body. His shoulder wasn’t the only part of him with holes in it, the rain running red swirls across the concrete hallway.

“Please,” he said, the effort seeming to take every ounce of energy in his body. “She’s all I have left.”

The kit stumbled into Tilly, tiny hands clutching into the fabric of her pajamas, staring up with panicked eyes, the whites clearly visible in the darkness. She was no more than six or seven years old. Where was her doe?

Water was starting to pool around Tilly’s feet. She needed to shut the door before the floor started to warp. But she probably shouldn’t let this buck die on her doorstep either - her neighbours were already suspicious and she didn’t need to make it worse.

She pushed the kid into the apartment behind her and snatched the buck’s collar, dragging him unceremoniously into the hallway, the mud and water mixing with blood and gods know what else behind him. His jaw cracked on the hardwood as she dropped him, her still-exhausted muscles complaining at the exertion. Tilly muttered an apology, but he seemed to have already been unconscious. Fantastic.

The kit was just standing there, clutching the hem of her blood-soaked dress, staring at the body of her father on the floor, then back up to Tilly.

“Fuck me,” Tilly muttered, pulling on her ears again so hard it ached.

She slid open the closet door and felt around for a blanket, praying it was black or at least something dark, and draped it over the kit’s shoulers and ushering her over to a corner of the tiny studio apartment where the hallway wasn’t visible. The kit pulled the fabric over her head, cocooning herself in a pile of towels.

Tilly found her phone and dialed N’rithaa.

“I have a problem.”

“Yeah, it’s me, ‘cause you’re calling me at five in the goddamn morning.”

Tilly scowled. “Just get over here. And bring the boys.”

It took fifteen minutes for there to be a knock at the door. The bundle in the corner jumped at the sound.

N’rithaa stood sour and cross-armed on the landing, flanked by Ten and his half-brother Tassadar, who couldn’t look any less like N’rithaa than if he’d not been her son - lean muscle, long legs, and hilariously short ears.

N’rithaa eyed the blood on Tilly’s pants. “You get in another fight on the way home or what?”

Wordlessly, Tilly pushed the door open a bit farther, revealing the crumpled form of the buck behind her.

“Shit,” N’rithaa hissed, grabbing the door and yanking it shut so that just Tilly’s face was visible. “What did you do?” Her long, wide ears swiveled, listening for the sound of anyone moving in the alleyway.

“Nothing, believe or not,” Tilly said, her voice low. “He just showed up here twenty minutes ago, half dead.”

N’rithaa squeezed her way through the door and waved the bucks in, locking the door behind them.

She knelt down next to the red buck, placing two fingers underneath his jaw. “Yeah, well, he’s full dead now.”

“Shit.”

N’rithaa’s hand moved to the buck’s left ear, sliding her thumb up the inside of the lobe, across the lines of his tattoo - a thistle in the claws of a cat. It was beautiful, and unmistakably Hrair.

N’rithaa’s hand stopped as her thumb brushed the jagged, red edge of his eartip where it’d been removed in a hurry.

Tilly swore. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”  
“Know any red buck Rahs or Owsla?”

Tassadar was staring at the tattoo like a deer in headlights, his nose flared. “That’s. That’s not _ours_ , is it?”

Tilly shook her head. “I ain’t never seen him before.”

He blanched. “I don’t know if that’s more or less comforting.”

N’rithaa stood, dusting off her knees. “Whoever he belongs to, we need to get him out of your kitchen. Ten, Tass, you’re gonna have to go home and get the van. Bring the tarps and a bunch of shop towels.” She looked to Tilly. “Your neighbours ain’t nosey, are they?”

“I never see ‘em. I don’t even think I know what species they are.”

“Okay, well. Here’s to hopin’ they sleep in on the weekend, ‘cause we’re about to do some shady ass shit and I don’t need anyone calling the damn cops.”

She turned away from the corpse on the floor to look down at Tilly, stopping in her tracks at the sight of her superior leaning against the kitchen counter, chewing on her lip and scowling. “What,” N’rithaa asked, voice low.

Her eyes followed Tilly’s to the bundle in the corner, barely noticeable in the haphazard conditions of Tilly’s apartment. From beneath the blanket, a dark-furred face was peeking out, eyes glittering in the dim light.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not.”

N’rithaa walked slowly over to the kit, kneeling down and holding out a hand. “Hey there lil’ one, what’s your name?”

The kit stared at her for a long moment, eyes moving from her face to her ear and back again before snaking a small black-furred paw and laying it into N’rithaa’s ample palm. “Rosette.”

“Hey Rosette, I’m N’rithaa,” she said, closing her fingers around the kit’s hand. “I heard you had a bad night. You okay?”

Rosette nodded. “Is dad okay?”

N’rithaa pressed her lops together. “No, little one, he’s met the black rabbit.”

Rosette’s eyes lost their focus. “Oh.”

The next words out of the kit’s mouth made the hair stand on the back of Tilly’s neck. Quietly, the voice of a creature that should never know, much less say the words, Rosette spoke. “ __Hrair elil m’aison ni-Inlé_ [[3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56269762#note3)] _ _._ ” The Hrair elegy.

N’rithaa’s eyes closed, taking a deep breath and waiting a heartbeat before asking, “Where do you live, Rosette?”

“I dunno. We were in a car for a long time. I went to sleep on the floor.”

“Where’s your mommy at?”

Rosette shook her head and shrugged.

“Do you know any of your mom or dad’s friends?”

Rosette thought for a while, holding a hand up to her chin. “Ennarah. Sophie. Uhh…Ollie was nice.” She furrowed her brows. “I’m hungry.”

“Alright, we’ll get you some food.” N’rithaa rubbed Rosette on the head, the blanket falling away from the kit’s ears. She he dropped her ears as N’rithaa’s fingers tousled soft black kit fur, but when N’rithaa’s hand was removed and her ears raised back up, the raw, raised line of fresh ink was clearly visible in Rosette’s right ear.

“She’s got a tattoo,” N’rithaa said to Tilly, her voice barely above a whisper. The two does were pressed into the corner by the front door, the farthest point away from tiny ears they could find inside of a studio apartment. “Not a Hrair one, more like a gang tat. Or a prostitute mark.”

“Frith in a hole, she’s like, what, _five_?” Tilly curled her lip. “The fuck is this warren into?”

N’rithaa shrugged. “It’s fresh, maybe a day old.”

Tilly watched the kit from across the room, sitting on Tilly’s bed with a bowl of undressed greens - the only thing resembling food Tilly had in the fridge - eating silently and ravenously. The thought of a kit that young, sold to dealers and passed from hand to hand to do with as they pleased. Half of her employees might be prostitutes, but at least they were legal, or close enough. But not every warren had the morals that Crixa did.

“She also mentioned an Ennarah, so we know our boy’s Owsla, at least.” N’rithaa continued. “Recognize that name?”

Tilly shook her head. “Never heard of an Enna, Rah or not. You’d have to ask Outer.”

“She said they drove for a long time and she had to sleep on the floor. I’m guessing the holes in dad here were put in after they arrived.”

“I think I’ve met one of the out of town warrens like, once,” Tilly muttered. “And I barely remember it. Some meeting between the Rahs and they dragged me in to work reception because Chloe was tryna show off the new ‘diversity’ or whatever. I bailed after an hour.”

“Origin aside, what are you planning to do with her? You can’t stay here, it’s barely fit for a kit even if we didn’t have to pull out all the floor.”

“She’s gotta have a doe somewhere. When I find her, she can have the kit back.”

“How long’s that gonna take?”

“When it’s not piss in the morning I’ll call HQ. They’re bound to know where she’s from. ‘Til then I can keep her with me. Honour the dude’s dying wishes and all.” Tilly sighed. “How long d’you think it’ll take to clean this up?”

N’rithaa looked down at the smear of drying blood soaking into the floorboards. “Depends on whether or not your neighbours complain about the noise. Couple days if we’re lucky. It’s all fresh, at least, so it’s not like we have to get real deep in there.”

“That’s good, I guess. The less time I have to crash at your place, the better.”

They watched Rosette finish her salad and help herself to more, trying to avoid looking at the body of her father only a few feet away.

“You _sure_ you’re okay with keeping her?”

“It’s only a couple of days, if that.”

“Yeah, but…” N’rithaa closed her mouth and exhaled, struggling for a way to say what she was thinking.

“I’m not a _marli [[4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56269762#note4)]_ doe, is what you’re trying to say.”

“Yeah.”

“Just because I ain’t never had kits doesn’t mean I dislike ‘em or don't know how to deal with one for a couple of days,” Tilly said, eyes narrowing. “She’s old enough to handle herself anyway.”

N’rithaa studied Tilly’s face. “Well. If you need anything, let us know. Between the two of us, me an’ Rasz have raised a bunch of babies and I’d like to think we’re good at it.”

“I dunno N, I’ve met your son.”

N’rithaa groaned. “He’s not a good example of my mothering skills. At least he’s fuckin’ huge; maybe once he’s legal the warren will beat him into something worth his grass.”

As if on cue, the low roll of the bucks’ voices became audible through the door, Ten explaining the procedure he was about to be assisting with in cant, which Tassadar seemed to only barely be understanding.

N’rithaa pushed herself up off of the wall. “You need to get her out of here before we start workin’ on this. You can wait for us to get him loaded and ride with us or you can try and grab a cab to our place, doesn’t matter to me. I’m sure Rasz is already cleaning the kits’ old room just in case, anyway.”

Tilly nodded. “Prolly better to ride with y’all. Kit’s clothes are covered in blood.”

The bucks knocked on the door and N’rithaa let them in, giving Tilly a tight smile. “Well, you might wanna go sit in the van then. This ain’t gonna be nothin’ a kit needs to see.”

  
  
  
  


Raszagal was fretting at the hem of her robe in the doorway to the garage as the van pulled in, the door grinding in its rails as it slid shut behind them. As soon as the door touched the cracking concrete slab, N’rithaa and the bucks jumped out of the van, Raszagal doling out aprons and equipment from a storage bin.

Tilly gathered the kit into her arms, lifting her out of the van as she looked around with bleary eyes, squinting in the artificial light. She did her best to keep Rosette away from what was happening behind them, carrying her into the house and leaving the sounds of plastic bags and power tools to be muffled by the walls.

The house was tiny, and ancient, the cabinetry outdated and chipped, but it was clean, and well kept, and it was room enough for two bonded does and their sons that for some reason never chose to leave home. The air smelled of cleaners, and Tilly smiled to herself. It wasn’t that N’rithaa was less high-strung than her partner, it’s just that she blew off steam in underground boxing rings, while Raszagal just cleaned everything she could get her hands on.

“Come on, you gotta take a bath,” Tilly said, turning on the tarnished tap, holding a hand under the water until it was warm.

The kit obeyed with some resistance. Rabbits were not a particularly water-loving species and their grooming routines didn’t involve baths or showers, but Rosette’s shiny black fur was crushed with blood, making the water run red and rusty. Tilly scrubbed her with a washcloth as roughly as she dared, working her way from the kit’s head down to her legs, spreading her toes apart to clean off every shred of evidence of the previous night.

The foot on the right leg was normal - long toes tipped with black nails, a wonderfully fluffy foot pad that made Tilly jealous. The other made Rosette hiss when Tilly touched it, and that was when she noticed the white marking that snaked up the foot like a lightning bolt, jagged and unnatural. She ran her fingers along the mark gently, following it down the leg until it reached Rosette’s toes. Or at least, where they should be.

Rosette jerked her foot away as Tilly’s fingertips brushed the raw stumps, only recently healed, clean cuts at the first knuckle of each one.

“What happened?” she asked.

Rosette’s eyes unfocused. “They got cut off.”

Tilly didn’t need her to elaborate. Severed fingers and toes were commonplace in the Hrair, but she was probably the youngest rabbit Tilly had seen with wounds like that. This wasn’t the case of some overzealous mother doe accidentally scrubbing toes off; this was someone who knew what they were doing, using a knife and cutting right through the joints.

“If it hurts and you want some medicine, let me know.”

Rosette shrugged. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The nonchalant tone of Rosette’s voice made Tilly’s skin crawl. Sometimes a rabbit might cut off their claw as an apology to their Rah for an infraction. But kits...kits weren’t warren members. They didn’t answer to a Rah. This wasn’t an apology. It was a threat.

Tilly raided the dresser in the kit room, selecting a clean dress and pants that looked like they’d fit be the right size, handing them to Rosette once she had dried off enough, watching the shaking way she compensating for the lack of toes on her foot as she threaded her legs through the pants and pulled the dress over her head.

Rosette was gazing longingly at the old bunk beds on the other side of the room, now clean and clothed and warm and exhausted.

Tilly bumped her in the back with her knee. “Get some sleep.”

  
  
  
  
  


The sun streaked pink and gold through the sky as Raszagal pulled a tray of previously frozen biscuits out of the oven and set them onto the stove. Tilly reached out for one and regretted it, burning her thinly furred fingers on the freshly baked pastries.

“They’re hot,” Raszagal said accusingly. “Let me do it.”

Quickly, with the hands of a doe that’s had years of practice making hundreds of breakfasts, she halved the biscuits with her thick-furred hands, topping each bottom half with a pat of butter before sliding the lids back on.

Tilly shoved one in her mouth, huffing as she blew steam out of her mouth.

“Just ‘cause I put butter on it doesn’t mean it ain’t still hot,” Raszagal laughed.

The two of them ate their breakfast and shared a pot of coffee, sitting in old patio chairs, watching the sunrise through the freshly-budding trees in Raszagal’s tiny backyard.

“Y’all get everything handled out there in the garage?” Tilly asked.

“Enough that your girl isn’t gonna be any more traumatized, at least.” Raszagal shook her head, sighing. “Awful thing for a kit that young to go through. N said she already has a tattoo, gosh.”

“She knew the fuckin’ _eulagy_. Whatever warren she’s from, they’re a lot rougher than ours.”

“That or he’s just a defector,” Raszagal hummed, taking a long sip of her coffee. “I’d put money on him gettin’ attached to his kits and not going through with sellin’ her off when he’d agreed to.”

“He was Owsla though. Why would an Owsla defect?”

Rasagal shrugged. “Some bucks get more attached to their kits than even the does do.”

“Enough to break that kind of vow?”

The dark-furred doe smiled. “Crazy is the love of a parent. You don’t really understand it until you are one.”

Tilly curled her lip, opening her mouth to share her opinions on rabbits who make promises they can’t keep, when her phone buzzed in her pocket. The number wasn’t saved into her contact list, but she’d recognize it anywhere. Headquarters.

“Huh,” she said, before answering. “Tilly here.”

The sound of someone sighing into the receiver filled Tilly’s ears. “I need ya to come down here right fuckin’ now.”

Tilly froze. She hadn’t heard Spooky’s voice in over half a year, and now it was here, buzzing through tinny speakers, laced in panic.

“What happened.”

“Not on the phone,” Spooky said.

Raszagal was already back inside the house, shaking N’rithaa awake.

  
  
  
  
  


The air was thick with tension as N’rithaa’s sedan wove it was through the early-morning traffic, heading east out of the city. The urban sprawl of Lynfort fell away as they crossed the bridge into Narn-Hain, concrete and neon replaced by white picket fence houses and rolling farmland as far as the eye could see. Tilly felt a weird sort of nostalgia here, memories of being ten years younger and riding her bike over the hills to Chloe’s office, pockets stuffed and shoulders sore. It felt like a lifetime ago.

The car turned onto the long gravel road that served as the driveway of the Crixa Hrair headquarters, passing underneath the wrought-iron archway twisted into the circular clover emblem that was worn by the Rah and her Owsla. Massive oak trees lined the road, their branches arcing over the path to create a natural archway all the way to the hundred-year-old plantation-style house that housed the heart and soul of the warren. It was an incredibly impressive affair, all wood and columns and balconies bordering massive windows. The driveway circled around up to the front door, then lead off toward a smaller, more plain building that was undoubtedly the breeding building once upon a time, but had been converted into a gardener’s shed and garage for the officers’ cars. The entire property reeked of old predator money, but these days, all you’d find here were rabbits.

As they pulled in closer to the house, the number of dark suits caught Tilly’s eye. It was a lot of security for a Sunday morning.

The pat-down they received before being allowed inside was thorough, and Tilly couldn’t even remember the last time she had to go through this much screening to gain entry to this building since the day of her induction.

“Spookyrah is upstairs,” said one of the suits, pushing the door open for the two does.

The entrance hall of the building was every bit as impressive as was expected for a Hrair headquarters of this caliber. The floors were original hardwood, restored and polished to a shine, long, ornate rugs that looked a bit too new protecting the floors from the sharp nails and padless feet of the rabbits that spent their time here. The rest of the decor was period-appropriate and ornate, and you could tell that quite a bit of money had been dumped into the restoration and purchase of the objects, from the genuine silver-backed mirror to the magnificent heavy drapery over every window.

N’rithaa whistleed. “Damn, it’s fancy in here.”

“It’s a Hrair headquarters, of course it’s fancy,” Tilly mumbled, walking past her down the carpeted pathway to a staircase leading up. “You didn’t come here for initiation?”

“Nah, I just had to swear in since I was already Hrair, just from another warren, and they didn’t make me come here to do it. The office at the college in Eagan wasn’t near this nice.”

Tilly noted more security hovering around the foyer, the sound of low voices drifting through the archway leading into the parlour room, dark eyes following them as they ascended the stairs. Something was wrong.

Upstairs was carpeted, thick padding making their footfalls nearly silent. This portion of the house looked more like an old-fashioned luxury hotel, long hallways lined with alternating doors, floral wallpaper and ornate wall sconces for lightning. In between each door were portraits of the Rahs, from the founding of the warren to present day.

“Lotta lops up there, huh?” N’rithaa said, falling into step besides Tilly.

“It was a originally a lop-only warren. Chloe was the first to open it up to everyone a couple years before I showed up, but breed discrimination runs deep, I guess. A lotta rabbits left when Spooky got elected.”

Tilly stopped in front of the second to last portrait, taking a moment to close her eyes in reverence. The artist had done an excellent job of capturing Chloe’s spirit in the paints, the warmth of her smile, the softness of her features. Such a sharp juxtaposition to the portrait next in line, with her sharp angles and bright colours, she way Spooky was all but glaring out at the viewer, manic light in her eyes. Tilly felt a strange knot form in her guts as she looked in the face she hadn’t seen in so long.

N’rithaa’s voice broke through Tilly’s thoughts. “So you used to hang out here when you was a _silfessi_ , then?”

“Nobody really ‘hangs out’ here except the Rah and the admin staff. I came for induction and a few parties when they made me work reception, but that was it. My apartment was like, ten minutes away.”

“Surely someone stays in all these rooms. I can’t imagine they all just fulla spiders.”

Tilly shrugged. “They’re prolly just for visitors or whatever. I never thought to ask.”

“If I was the boss, I’d rent ‘em out like a bed n’ breakfast. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see someone get in a fistfight outside. Bet the carnies would get a kick outta that.” N’rithaa cackled.

The two of them stopped in front of the huge double-doors they leg into Spooky’s office at the end of the hall. It used to be some kind of upstairs parlour room, but sometime in the past the open entryway was replaced with a huge set of hand-carved double doors, fashioned out of what appeared to be solid pieces of expensive hardwood. Each one was engraved with a rabbit in a fighting stance, one half of the Crixa emblem in the background. When the doors were shut, as they were now, it looked as though the rabbits were coming together in battle, teeth bared. Tilly released a breath she didn’t know that she was holding, and rapped on the door.

They were swung open almost instantly, and through them stepped a lean Rex doe, arms held wide. She was shirtless, showcasing the muscle in her chest and arms underneath mottled orange and black fur. The inside rims of her ears were lined in gold rings, bringing even more attention to the her tattoo - a white viper coiled around a nightshade flower with a crown above its highest petal, a clash of colour that jumped out at you, demanding your attention. It was difficult to know what part of her to look at, and that’s exactly how she liked it.

“Tillllllllyyyy!”

The orange rabbit wrapped her arms around Tilly’s shoulders, lifting the smaller doe off of her feet and pressing Tilly’s face into her chest. More than one vertebra popped audibly.

“Look at ya, all dressed up! Is all that for lil’ ol’ me? Gray an’ red’s a good look by the way, ya should make that yer thing.”

“Hello Spooky,” Tilly said, struggling for air.

Spooky dropped her unceremoniously, immediately rounding on N’rithaa. She peered upwards in an exaggerated manner, shielding her face with a hand as though the sun were in her eyes, trying and failing to whistle. “Damn, ya pick ‘em big Tils. She hit hard? She looks like she hits hard. I bet that skull an’ arrow ain’t in ‘er ear for nothin’.” She squeezed on N’rithaa’s bicep with one hand, snaking the other around her waist, feeling N’rithaa’s abs beneath her clothes. “I might hafta steal this one from ya.”

N’rithaa’s jaw tightened, but said nothing.

Tilly smoothed down the front of her shirt. “You done patting us down yet?”

Spooky dropped off of N’rithaa. “Yeah, yer clean.”

She led her guests in to the office, dropping down onto the edge of her desk, reaching around behind her to grab a nearly-empty pack of cigarettes and light one. She held the pack out to Tilly, who took one, then to N’rithaa, who did not.

She wasn’t quite looking at them, leaning her elbows onto her knees, lacing her fingers together, the cigarette dangling out of her mouth as she tensed her jaw, trying to decide how to say what she needed to say.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low. “There ain’t really a nice way to say, so I’m just gonna say it. Some shit’s been goin’ down an’ y’all need to be aware.” She paused, rubbing the bare palm of her hand against her nose. “Normally I wouldn’t worry too much about a few rabbits gettin’ snuffed, but someone knocked the fuckin’ Outer Owsla last night, an’ one of her managers.”

N’rithaa swore.

“No signs of struggle, no trashed office, nothin’. She an’ her manager were alone at their shop last night, so no witnesses either. This ain’t just some random office raid; someone was out to get ‘em.”

Tilly didn’t know what to say, except: “Shit.”

“I don’t know if they just had beef with _her_ or what, but killin’ an Owsla is big shit.” Spooky looked up at Tilly. “Glad to see y’all are in one piece, anyway.”

“What’s this got to do with us?” N’rithaa asked, crossing her arms. “We ain’t had anythin goin’ on except cleanin’ up Tilly’s apartment.”

Spooky looked up at her, nose flaring. “Yer all the way out there by yerselves, a’ I gotta protect my fuckin’ assets-” Her eyes widened, locking onto N’rithaa. “Wait what? Why were y’all cleanin’ Tilly’s apartment?”

“She got some clipped-off Owsla buck die on her kitchen floor and ruined all the floors.”

Spooky’s glare snapped to Tilly. “ _What?_ ”

Tilly shot N’rithaa a look. “He turned up at like five this morning and dumped me a kit and bled out on my floor. Trust me, I wasn’t gonna leave you in the dark, I was just waiting ‘til I knew someone was gonna answer the phone.”

“A kit. Where is the kit.”

“At N’rithaa’s.”

Spooky stubbed out her cigarette and immediately lit another. “You, big-ears, ya got anyone ya bunk with?”

“A _rusamitha [[5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56269762#note5)] _ and two sons.”

“Cool, y’all prolly be okay,” she muttered, chewing the inside of her lip between deep drags on her cigarette. “Yer sons Hrair?”

“One of ‘em is; mine ain’t legal yet but he’s Tilly’s bouncer so he’s big enough to take care of himself. Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘y’all prolly be-’”  
Spooky ignored her, turning to Tilly. “Where’re ya stayin’?”

“Prolly gonna crash at the bar ‘til the floor in my apartment gets replaced.”

Spooky hopped off of her desk, pacing absently as she fidgeted with the fur around her elbow. “Nope. Yer not stayin’ alone.”

Tilly rocked back on her feet. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Rasz and N’rithaa are already takin’ in a kit, and-”

“I got rooms.”

“Spooky-”

“I am _not_ losin’ any more rabbits tonight, Chantilly.” Spooky hissed between clenched teeth. “Yer stayin’ here.”

Spooky was trying to be intimidating, putting on her Rah face and trying to bare her teeth and square her shoulders and roar in the way that earned her that name. But Tilly had been in this warren long enough that she’d had her tattoo touched up once already. She could take anything thrown at her.

“I have a _job_ over in Riverside, in case you forgot.”

“Ya wanna lose it _an’_ yer position in this warren?” Spooky’s voice was raised now, ears pulled back and pinched. “I’m givin’ ya an order.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“So. Talk to me.”

Spooky was pacing back and forth in front of the couch in her office, picking idly at the fur on her arms with one hand, the other holding yet another freshly-lit cigarette. Tilly, from her vantage point on the cushions, could see the bald spots beginning to show.

“I told you everything. Red fur, a tattoo of a cat paw holding a thistle, and a chopped-off ear. Shows up on my porch full of holes and begged me to take his kit.”

“An’ ya sure y’ain’t recognize him?”

“No.”

“I ain’t remember any warrens with a red Owsla that got a thistle tattoo,” Spooky mumbled, sniffing.

“Rosette said their Rah’s name was Enna?”

Spooky picked another clump of fur off of her elbow. It drifted gently to the floor to join its siblings, rolling under the furniture to settle with the dust bunnies. 

Tilly’s eye followed the clump of fur as she continued. “They’re into prostitutes, too. Weird though, they put it in her right ear. I ain’t never seen that before.” She studied the lines of the wood grain in the coffee table. “I wonder what happened to the rest of ‘em.”

“Prolly same thing that happened to dad, there.”

Spooky dropped down onto the couch next to Tilly, almost uncomfortably close. Tilly could smell the cigarette smoke on her fur, feel the warmth of Spooky’s body against her. She felt her ears heat up.

Spooky was quiet for a moment, lost in her thoughts. “There ain’t no way this is a coincidence that the same night someone takes a hit on us ya end up with a dead Owsla on yer doorstep. I just don’t know how it’s supposed to line up.”

Tilly sighed. “Maybe it’s all just a coincidence and it’s just you bein’ paranoid. Maybe this guy defected and got caught and it’s just that I was the closest door around.”

“Ain’t no such thing as coincidence in this line o’ work, Tils. If there’s _any_ possible fuckin’ way things can connect, they prolly will. Trust me.”

“Sure it’s not just you bein’ crazy?”

“I always hope it is.”

Spooky stubbed out her cigarette and stood, shuffling over to her desk. Her long, purposefully overgrown nails clicked against the computer keys as she typed, groaning as whatever she was looking for did not appear. “Ain’t nothin’ in this god-damn fuckin’ computer…” she grumbled. “Yer gonna hafta use the books.”

“What?”

Spooky clicked her tongue. “The...the books. They put in this fuckin’ computer system but there ain’t nothin’ in it. Yer gonna hafta get the…” She waved her hand around, trying think. “The books that say what each department spends its money an’ shit on an’ who they talkin’ to. If yer boy’s in there, Finance would have it.”

“Shouldn’t someone from admin be doing this? Isn’t there a bunch of shit in there that I shouldn’t see?”

Spooky dropped back onto the couch next to Tilly, her arm falling onto Tilly’s shoulder. “Admin’s fuckin’ idiots an’ the two highest rabbits in Outer’re smellin’ up my basement, so _anyone_ I gave this to would technically be seein’ shit they ain’t supposed to see.” She nudged Tilly in the head with her elbow, grinning. “I can always jus’ promote ya if ya find anythin’ real scandalous.”

Tilly blanched. “I’d rather you kill me.”

Spooky laughed, genuinely, a smile settling on her face. It had been a long time since Tilly had seen her genuinely smile. It’d been a long time since they’d even sat in a room together, and Tilly found it comforting, familiar. The only sounds in the room were Spooky’s rhythmic breathing, and the hum of the forced-air heater making the room almost uncomfortably warm, muddling up Tilly’s exhausted brain.

Spooky yawned wide, her teeth clicking on the way down.

“Long night?” Tilly asked.

“Rah work never stops,” Spooky replied, cryptically. “An’ now with this shit goin’ on…yeah.”

“I’m sure nobody will complain if you take an hour or two.”

Spooky nudged Tilly’s head with her elbow again. “Stop bein’ so reasonable.”

Tilly took a deep breath and stood up, slapping Spooky on the knee to push herself up. “Well _I’m_ fuckin’ exhausted and I was actually close to gettin’ sleep before someone so rudely died on my floor. You gonna give me a room to crash in, or am I gonna hafta find a table somewhere to crawl under?”

“Third door down on the right side o’ this hall is clean, I think. If it ain’t, jus’ open all of ‘em til ya find one that don’t smell like mothballs.”

“Thanks.”

“If ya go down the other hall from the stairs there’s a bathroom. Food in the kitchen, all that good shit. Blah, blah.”

“Got it.”

Spooky looked up at her, something distantly familiar in her face. “Sweet dreams.”

  
  
  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


_“Ey, boss, da new recruit’s here!”_

_“Bring ‘em in,” came a voice from the other side of the door._

_The tawny lop buck opened the door for Tilly, stepping aside to let her through. “Good luck,” he whispered, grinning._

_Tilly wasn’t sure what she should think of that._

_At the only desk in the tiny room sat a lean, angry looking lop doe (and of course she was a lop, they were all fuckin’ lops,) with fur the colour of flames. Her face fell when she looked up, seeing the young rabbit standing in a low bow before her. “Oh. You’re…”_

Here we go. _“Tiny?” Tilly offered, trying to smile._

_“Uhhh...sure.” The doe was staring at her, eyes crawling along Tilly’s body - the shape of her jaw, her hips, her chest - trying to decide if she should say what she was thinking. “Not exactly da type I was expectin’ ta be sent for street work.”_

_Tilly stood up straighter, trying not to square her shoulders too much. “I’m tougher than I look. Being small means I’m hard to hit; at least that’s what all my sparring partners said.”_

_“I’m sure ya are,” the boss doe mumbled. “Ya gotta name, kid?”_

_“Chantilly Rivers.”_

_“That yer_ legal _name?”_

_“Yes.”_

_The doe raised an eyebrow. “Aight.”_

_There was a knock on the door, and the tawny buck’s muffled voice drifted through. “Ay, Miz Yona, ‘malia’s here.”_

_“Let ‘er in Vince.”_

_Vince pushed open the door, and an orange and black doe walked in and stood next to Tilly, a full head taller than she was, the beginnings of a dewlap roll beneath her chin. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and Tilly could see that the doe’s fur was the same velveteen texture as her own._

_“Ya wanted me?” Her voice was harsh, like sandpaper on skin._

_Yona leaned back in her chair. “I gotcha a lil’ lackey, Punkin’, ain’t it cute?”_

_The orange doe looked down at Tilly from the corner of her eye. “Sure.”_

_“I want ya to take Tillyroo here an’ fill ‘er in on how shit gets done ‘round here.”_

_She rolled her eyes. “Ain’t that Vinny’s job? I was in the middle of somethin’.”_

_Yona’s nose wrinkled. “Watch yer damn mouth,_ silfessi _. If y’were in the middle of shit den get ‘er ta help ya, den hit da streets. It’s collection day an’ Jen’s off on maternity leave.”_

_Tilly heard the orange doe’s teeth grind. “Yes ma’am.”_

_Yona waved a hand at them dismissively. “Shut da door behind ya.”_

_When they were outside of the office, the orange doe rounded on Tilly, eyes on fire. “If ya hear anyone call me Amalia, ignore ‘em. It’s a shit name an’ I hate it. I go by Spooky.”_

_“Alright.”_

_Spooky looked down at Tilly, appraising her with crossed arms. “There ain’t no way yer good for street work. They just sent ya here ‘cause yer rex an’ they don’t want nobody up top to know Chloerah opened admission to rabbits who ain’t lops.”_

_Tilly’s eyes narrowed. “Try me.”_

_Spooky swung at her. Tilly dodged easily, ducking underneath the taller rabbit’s fist. She sidestepped slightly, kicking a foot out and clipping Spooky in the heel, stumbling her just enough to notice. Tilly took advantage of the trip to send the heel of her palm into Spooky’s chin._

_“Not bad,” Spooky grinned, running her tongue along the fresh split in her inside lip. “Yer slippery if nothin’ else.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_Faster than Tilly could counter, Spooky’s fist met her solar plexus, knocking the smaller doe to her knees._

_“Jus’ gotta work on yer reaction time.”_

_It felt like playing right into Yona’s hand, but there was something infectious in Spooky’s grating laugh, like there was no greater joy than to beat the living shit out of someone. It made Tilly keep slinking back to her when she was done with her day’s work, bumping into her on the street, coincidentally wandering into the same bar. Before long Spooky started showing up in Tilly’s haunts with a smug smile and a swing to Tilly’s head, and they’d scrap in alleyways just for the fun of it, fistfuls of fur littering the ground as they slumped against the wall, laughing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 “Outskirter.” Hrair term for a low-ranking member.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 3 “The Thousand’s Enemies Come at Midnight.”  [ return to text ]
> 
> 4 Literally, a doe. Carries the implication of motherhood, so here is used to mean “motherly.” [ return to text ]
> 
> 5 Literally, “heart-sister.” The term for one’s romantic partner, if that rabbit is a doe. The buck equivalent is “rusatitha”, and the neutral form is “rusathi”. [ return to text ]


	3. Chapter Two

A soft knocking rose Tilly a few hours later from a surprisingly adequate nap. The frame of the bed she lay in was old and creaky, but the mattress was new and soft, enveloping her like a nest, lulling her into blissful slumber. The old quilt had that comforting smell of ones familial home - like dust and fabric softener and cleaner.

The knock repeated itself, penetrating the warm and comfortable feelings and calling up less pleasant memories of blood soaking into Tilly’s floor. Her eyes snapped open with a start, momentarily disoriented by her unfamiliar surroundings, panic shooting through her throat, just for a second. She lay there for a long moment, trying to catch her breath, watching the dust dance in the pale light filtering through old curtains.

“Um, Miss Tilly?” came a muffled voice from outside the door. “Are you awake?”

She should answer. It would be the polite thing to do.

But this bed was so, so soft, and there was a gentle pattering of rain on the window and-

“I’m gonna…” said the voice outside the door, mumbling to itself. A few moments later, Tilly’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She sighed deeply, snatching the phone before it could vibrate off onto the floor.

“Yes?” Tilly growled into the receiver, her voice gritty with sleep.

“Um, sorry to wake you up, but you have visitors?”

“You seem unsure about that.”

“I…no. You have visitors.”  
Tilly squeezed her eyes shut, taking a breath. “Do they have names?”

“Uh…”

“What do they look like?”

“They’re...bucks…”

“What- y’know what, never mind. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Tilly dragged herself out of the bed, stretching up on her tiptoes before padding to her suitcase to dredge up a clean shirt and pants. She fluffed up her headfur in the vanity mirror, making sure she looked halfway presentable, then slipped her phone into her pocket, slid on her blazer, and stepped out of the door.

Outside, a small, nervous looking doe with a white face and hands was clutching a landline receiver like it was her only hope of saviour in some upcoming apocalypse. She was standing too close to the door, and when Tilly stepped through she smacked her in the arm, and she nearly dropped the phone on her foot.

She dipped into a bow, still holding the phone. “Good morning. They’re downstairs, in the foyer.”

“Cool,” Tilly mumbled as she dug for her smokes in her pocket. She expected the doe to light it for her and got ready to swat her hand away, but instead she simply turned and scuttled down the hallway, leaving Tilly to light it herself. Somehow, this annoyed her more than if the doe had actually remembered her manners.

Tilly saw Ten’s big glittery ears before she was even to the stairs. He heard her descending footfalls and greeted her with that million-leaf smile and a wave. He was dressed to the nines in his inauguration suit, collar buttoned up to his chin and tied with an equally black tie.

He held out a take-out cup of coffee to Tilly as she approached, which she accepted gratefully, taking a huge swig and burning the roof of her mouth. She blinked tears out of her eyes as she scanned the foyer, taking notes of the amount of security scattered around the building.

“Secretary shit-for-brains said there were two of you - where’s Tass?”

Ten’s ears fell, just a little. “Giving the kit a tour, last I knew,” he said. “Mom and Aunt N are handling work stuff since you aren’t there, and they told me I wasn’t allowed to leave ‘em alone.”

“Oh, I bet he’s thrilled about this.”

Ten snorted. “He thinks he’s big ass shit for gettin’ to come to HQ and he’s not even inducted, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, why’re you up here in your fancy suit wakin’ me up from the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in months?”

Ten checked his watch. “Well, first off, it’s noon. Second, I got called up for security and was told to dress nice. Since I had to come here anyway I figured I’d be nice and bring you coffee, since you’re my boss and all. I wasn’t sure how late you’d sleep; I told that secretary doe it wasn’t a big deal but she ran off anyway.”

Tilly craned her neck to see if the timid doe was hiding in the other room. “Yeah like I said, she didn’t seem like the orangest carrot in the garden. Thanks for the coffee though.”

“Never a problem.”

She took a slightly more reserved sip. “You think we can trust Tassadar in here by himself without supervision?”

“Oh _hell_ no. He’ll be peacocking around for anyone who’ll pay him an ounce of attention all day unless someone stops him.”

Tilly smiled to herself. “Leave him to me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


She found Tassadar outside in the back gardens, sitting underneath a gazebo, smoking and glowering at the raindrops eroding pits in the gravel walkway at his feet. He was doing a good job at pretending he wasn’t lost as shit, but Tilly had been a _silfessi_ once, and she knew exactly how labyrinthine this place could be.

“Everyone gets lost the first time they come out here,” she said as she strolled up, hands in her pants pockets, a crooked grin on her face.

He started, nearly choking on the smoke he’d just inhaled. “I ain’t lost. Just wanted some fresh air.”

“That why you’re smoking?”

His scowl deepend.

Tilly joined him underneath the gazebo, leaning against the entry arch. “Your mama know you’re doing that?”

“I’m legal, she can’t bitch at me for it anymore.” He curled his lip and took another drag.

“Gosh you’re classy,” Tilly chided. “I got a job for you, if you’re bored. You’d be helpin’ the Rah out, if that kinda thing appeals to you.”

He did a really good job of pretending he wasn’t interested in that.

“I’m doin’ some investigating and I need someone to help me go through some books,” she continued, studying her nails.

“Does it have anything to do with that guy that died in your kitchen this morning?”

“Maybe. That’s what you’re helpin’ me figure out.”

Tassadar grinned. “I get to solve a mystery for Spookyrah her fuckin’ self, and Tenchie’s gotta stand around staring at nothing all day. Sweet.”

Tilly wished she’d had a camera to capture the look on the gray buck’s face when she pushed open the doors to the Rah’s office and motioned him inside.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometime after midday (and Tilly knew it was midday, because the security guy that stuck his head into the room had told them to come downstairs for “ _Ni-Frith flay [[6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56488852#note6)] _”, which took Tilly an embarrassingly long time to remember what that meant,) Tassadar proved himself useful.

Tilly honestly had expected him to get bored and toss the book on the floor after ten minutes, but clearly she’d underestimated either his interest in browsing lists of boring data, or his dedication to making an impression on the warren. He’d sat himself on the meeting area couch, a stack of ledgers and schedule books on one side, an ashtray on the other, and there was nary a peep from him from over an hour. Instead, Tilly was the one losing steam faster than a blown-out tire on the interstate.

She was daydreaming about eating a huge plate of clover when Tassadar suddenly popped his head up.

“I got something.”

Tilly blinked sleepily, the words taking several seconds to penetrate her brain. “Hm?”

“This ledger book is all in ...Lapine, I guess? But there’s a bunch of entries for four hundred four-leafs for something from some group called Soft Heart?”

Tassadar walked over to the desk, holding the book open for her, pointing at a certain word on the page. Sure enough, just underneath his nail was the word “soft” in Hedgerow, followed by the exact same heart that was tattooed in Rosette’s ear, albeit less shaky and unprofessional. It was unmistakable - the way it curled to a very certain point, longer than it was wide.

“You see anything else like this?” she asked.

Tassadar flipped through the book, eyes glancing over the pages. “Nope. Only one was this one and it was from...the tenth month, I guess? Unless dates are written different in Lapine.”

“Nah, just the script is different,” Tilly mumbled idly, trying to read the rest of the page. It was pointless. She had been taught Lapine as a kit and nearly every Crixa lop spoke it almost exclusively, but she’d been out of rabbit country too long now. She was only getting bits and pieces, a few letters at a time.

“I can kinda read it, but I don’t understand it; we’re gonna have to ask someone-”

“Ask someone what?”

Spooky shouldered her way through the office door, grinning, though her eyes looked exhausted, walking less than perfectly steadily on her feet. Her bare torso was now covered with a black blazer, no doubt to cover the bare spots on her arms without destroying her personal style.

Tassadar’s mouth dropped open at the sight.

“Know anything about ‘Soft Heart’?” Tilly asked, leaning around the computer monitor.

“I know I ain’t got one,” Spooky replied, cackling at her own joke.

Tilly didn’t react. “No, I mean like an _entity_ called Soft Heart, with a heart instead of the word ‘heart’.”

Tassadar found his voice now, bowing quickly before holding the book out to Spooky. “This, right here. I’m guessin’ it’s for whores?”

“Prostitutes,” TIlly interjected.

Spooky leaned forward, squinting at the words on the page. “Only Lapine I know ain’t fit fer kits’ ears. Yer gonna have to ask one’a the lops to come read this for ya.”

“Do you at least know if Crixa had dealings with prostitutes last fall?”

“Nope, sure as fuck don’t. But that would be ‘bout the time ya started buyin’ up all them nightclubs, huh?”

Tilly did the calculations in her head. “Sounds about right.”

Spooky squeezed herself into the computer chair, her ass half on Tilly’s lap, half off, reaching for the phone on her desk. “I’m gonna make a call.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“So, Nildro. You can read this shit, right?” Spooky asked, laying the ledger book on the coffee table.

Across from her sat a plump, frumpy-looking doe with one ear that stood up, and one that fell against her soft, round cheek, her tiny hands laced in her lap. Her fur was white, peppered in cream, and the markings on her face were uneven, giving her an even more lopsided appearance.

She leaned forward, looking at the book. “Oh, that’s one o’ Sayn’s ledgers.” She drew a circle over her heart as she said the name. “I’d recognize her handwritin’ anywhere.”

“Cool. What does this bit say,” Spooky said, tapping the entry containing the words “Soft Heart.”

Nildro leaned forward, gazing down at the page. “Just says that someone talked to Soft Hearts ‘bout nightclubs.” She looked up at Tilly. “Ain’t you open up some ‘lap bars a few months ago? Or was that someone else.”

“That was me,” Tilly replied, leaning back in the chair. “I ain’t ask nobody from Outer to help me out with it though.”

Spooky was bouncing her leg. “Okay, so who the fuck is Soft Hearts?”

“I dunno. Prolly some supplier in town?”

“Supplier for _what_?”

“Prostitutes, duh.” Nildro rolled her eyes. “Dunno if they a breeder or jus’ a supplier, but dat’s a prostitute mark fer sure. Betcha my whole salary they dealin’ in ass.”

Tassadar made a face. “Y’all think that kit was from some place like that?”

Nildro’s head snapped to him, eyes wide. “A kit? Y’all bought a _kit_ from a breeder?”

Spooky ground her teeth. “Shut the fuck up, no. We just need to know how to get in contact with this group.”

Nildro shrugged. “Sayn ain’t really talk to us in Finance ‘bout none o’ her stuff, so best I can do is go through the book an’ see if it’s got any more information.”

“Fantastic. Whatever ya had on yer agenda for the day is cancelled, ‘cause you’ve just been elected to go through alla her books an’ put em in my computer - _in Hedgerow_. ‘Cause I can't fuckin’ read this shit.”

Nildro’s mouth dropped open. “All of it? Sayn was Owsla for like ten fuckin’ years!”

The light in Spooky’s eyes was dangerous. “I don’t remember fuckin’ askin’, Nildro.”

“Make him help,” Tilly spoke up, hooking a thumb at Tassadar, who was giving her an exasperated look. “Ain’t got nothin’ better to do.”

Spooky clicked her tongue at him. “Yeah, you, ya got decent handwritin’?”

Tassadar shrugged. “I ain’t never had a teacher say it wasn’t legible.”

“Cool, perfect, sounds great. Go with her an’ write down what she tells ya to.”

“I can’t-” Nildro stammered. She was still sitting on the couch, clutching the ledger to her chest and looking from Spooky to Tassadar to Tilly, then to the stack of books Tassadar hadn’t even gotten to yet.

Spooky slammed her hand on the table, rattling the ashtray. “ _Today_ , please. An’ I ain’t wanna see neither of y’all ‘til it’s done!”

The lop snatched up the rest of the books as fast as her short little legs would carry her, Tassadar trailing along behind her.

Tilly and Spooky said nothing for several minutes, the latter leaning back on the couch and running her fingers through her fur, tugging her ears. Finally, she sighed loudly, kicking up off of the couch to stand. She lit a cigarette, taking a long deep drag before exhaling slowly and sniffing. She walked over to Tilly and dropped down over the back of the office chair. One hand brushed against Tilly’s shoulder, ever so slightly.

“I need my computer,” Spooky crooned, her mouth right next to Tilly’s ear.

Tilly jumped up too fast, her vision fuzzing out for a second. “Right. Right. I’m gonna. Go find the kit or somethin’.”

Spooky cocked an eyebrow. “Have fun.”

“Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly padded her way down the stairs and into the foyer, turning the corner into the hallway that led into the kitchen. It was too early for lunch, but she scrounged through the fridge anyway, emerging with the ingredients for the bougiest sandwich she’d ever made in her life. Kitchen staff didn’t skimp on the food at headquarters, clearly. Must be nice, working here. Last time Tilly worked an event at headquarters she'd bailed to go meet Spooky at the docks before she ever got fed.

There wasn’t anything going on in this big ass house, but there was a TV in the parlour, so Tilly headed in that direction with her sandwich and a soda, only mildly looking forward to her forced day off.

When she stepped into the parlour she found Rosette sitting on the floor, playing cards with the gray and white doe that had woken her up this morning. She couldn’t tell what game they were playing, but from the look on the gray doe’s face, it appeared that she was not the one winning.

Tilly crouched behind Rosette. “Whatcha playin’?”

“Gin rummy,” Rosette replied, pulling a card from hard hand and discarding it.

Well, that was definitely not a game Tilly expected a kit to be not only playing, but winning. And pretty cleanly, from looking at the cards held between her tiny fingers. She only had one unmatched card and it was an ace; even if Rosette did decide to knock, she’d only lose a single point.

The gray doe drew, made a face, and discarded the same card.

With a poker face that rivaled rabbits Tilly had seen playing over hundred three-leaf pots, Rosette picked up the discarded card and slid it into her hand, removing the ace and laying it face-down on the discard pile. “Gin.”

The gray doe tossed her hand down. “I give up! You’re too good at this.”

Rosette beamed, reaching forward to retrieve a small pile of coins that had been set aside as the winnings. She counted them one by one, until she was a full five leafs richer.

“Where’d you learn to play gin, fuzzball?” Tilly asked.

“Dad played with me an’ my brothers an’ sisters all the time!” She grinned. “I always beat them, too.”

“Damn, I need you on days when I’m playin’ poker with the boys.”

The gray doe was gathering up cards off of the floor, shuffling them briefly before pushing them back into their box. “I don’t think that would be allowed,” she said, stiffly. “Even if you had a Crixa pin.”  
“It is if it’s my own venue,” Tilly replied.

Rosette looked up at her with wide eyes. “Can we go tonight? I wanna play Ten.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. A bar ain’t no place for a kit to be hangin’ out.” She noticed the way Rosette’s ears drooped. “Buuut, last I heard he was stationed out front if you wanna go ask him when his lunch break is.”

Rosette gave Tilly a smile that would have charmed even the sourest of bucks before darting out of the parlour and into the foyer, pockets jingling victoriously.

“She’s so cute,” The gray doe remarked. “And smart! You must be proud.”

“Mm,” Tilly mumbled, still focusing on the spot where Rosette’s feet had disappeared around the corner.

“What are you gonna do if she wants to be Hrair?”

This caught Tilly’s attention. “What?”

The doe shrugged, tilting her head to one side. “This is an organization for failures and orphans, not bright kits with potential. It’d be a shame to waste the world’s next best engineer or whatever on being a dancer at some Hrair front nightclub.”

“She ain’t mine, first off,” Tilly said, her eyes narrowing. “Second off, you should mind your own damn business about how does wanna raise their kits.”

“It was just a question, jeez. I just wanna make sure I do mine right whenever they come along.”

“If you’re that concerned about your kits bein’ Hrair, maybe you should keep your legs closed.”

The doe gave an indignant huff and marched out of the parlour, her footfalls heavy on the rugs.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“So when ya comin’ back to work, _boss_?”

Juliet sat across from Tilly at the grandiose dining table, the two of them tucking into heaping plates of homemade pot pie, fresh from Raszagal’s oven. They hadn’t told anyone else yet - they wanted to eat their fill in peace before the kits came in and wiped out the rest of the kitchen stores.

“Nah, Spooky’s got me on fuckin’ house arrest here,” Tilly mumbled. “Prolly for another couple days, til we figure out where Rosette’s doe is.”

“Don’t ya think it’s kinda weird?”

Tilly looked up. “Hm?”

Juliet leaned against one arm, cocking her head slightly, nearly dropping the tip of her ear into her plate. “Dat she keepin’ ya here. Like, ya ain’t really allat, y’know. Ya clubs make alright money but she ain’t gettin’ rich offa us. I tol’ her I didn’t wanna leave an’ she was like ‘aight, okay,’ but _you_ gotta come stay here an’ can’t leave now. Jus’ seems weird.”

“I’m the manager, I guess. I’m more valuable than anyone else.”

Juliet put her fork down. “Then why ain’t alla managers up here then? Why it jus’ you? She got like fifty fuckin’ fronts an’ _you_ the only one up here an’ y’ain’t even the biggest earner.” Juliet curled her lip into a half smile, half sneer. “Ya see what I mean? Why we out dere gettin’ ready for a firefight an’ you here with fifteen armed guards atcha door?”

Tilly’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask to be brought here, Juliet. I call it house arrest for a reason.”

“Nah, nah, I ain’t blamin’ ya. Jus’ thinkin’ is all.”

Tilly didn’t say anything for a long moment, frowning down at her food.

Juliet shoved another forkful into her mouth, talking around the bite. “I can do some phone calls an’ get us some guns if we need to. Other’n dat, ain’t nothing goin’ on in Riverside. It’s all quiet, even dem street gangs ‘ats always fuckin’ around. We put da down payment onnat new ‘lap bar ya was negotiatin’ before ya left, so dat’ll be openin’ soon.”

“That might be a good thing the gangs haven’t gotten wind of what’s going on, we don’t need anything else gettin’ in the way.”

“Yeah, till ‘ey realize you ain’t there no more an’ start gettin’ they noses in our business.” Juliet shook her head. “ _Bralnaokytrah_ _lay zayn val_.[[7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56488852#note7)]

“It’s more likely that they won’t even notice; we barely have any presence in town as it is.”

Juliet was giving her a look that Tilly didn’t like. “An’ yet here you is, under da Rah’s personal protection.”

  
  
  
  
  


By that evening Tilly was bored out of her mind. Everyone in the building was busy, and she was stuck there with naught but her cell phone and a kit that, for the most part, entertained herself. She’d barely even seen anyone she actually knew since Juliet and Ten had left to go open the bar, and the unfamiliar faces were either busy or that vapid gray doe that seemed to be avoiding Tilly at all costs. Not that Tilly was complaining.

Eventually Rosette had found her again and begged for a tour of the gardens outside, and together they strolled, Tilly leisurely enjoying nature and taking advantage of the huge overhanging trees and gazebos to avoid the gentle yet steady sprinkling of rain, while Rosette sprinted on ahead, ducking in and out of bushes and bamboo groves. They had added a lot to the gardens since Tilly had last visited. There was a whole rhododendron hedge maze now, and a massive koi pond lined with stone pathways.

Rosette was tossing pellets in the water for the fish as Tilly played a game on her phone, sitting underneath a covered bench some distance away. She enjoyed the fresh air, but it was just a tad too cold out for her, being shorter in coat than a normal rabbit, even with her blazer on.

The sound of her text tone ruined the zen atmosphere, making her jump a little. She opened the messaging app, selecting the bolded text next to Tassadar’s name.

_Nildro found something about some guy named Axel Birchpelt in the book. Looks like he’s in ash hill._

“Yo short stuff, I gotta head back inside,” Tilly said, catching Rosette’s attention.

The kit nodded, tossing the rest of her handful of fish food into the pond and following Tilly back to the house.

They reached the back portico just as Spooky was stepping through the patio doors, looking around expectantly.

“Oh, hey. You hear from Tassadar? He just texted me they got a lead on this Soft Hearts guy.”

Spooky blinked. “Who?”

“Tassadar, the kid helpin’ Nildro? Big head, little ears, gray fur?”

“Oh, that guy. Yeah, she just come tell me, an’ I was comin’ tell ya ‘bout it. Make sure ya know.”

Tilly looked up from her phone as she pressed send. “Yeah well, I know. I was just goin’ grab him an head out of town.”

“No,” Spooky snapped with startling intensity.

“You’re really stickin’ to this whole not letting me leave thing, ain’t you.”

Spooky groaned and spun on her heels, pulling at her ears. “He needs to stay here with Nil an’ help her put the shit in the computer. If...if yer plannin’ on goin’ to Ash Hill, I’ll...I’ll go with ya.”

“Okaaay.”

Spooky sniffed. “Yer gonna hafta drive, though.”

Tilly sighed. “Of course.”

  
  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


_Spooky’s voice crackled through the speaker of Tilly’s phone, but she could barely hear it. She’d been up all night drinking with some of the bucks she’d just got off a job with and she had passed the fun point of drunk and was now starting the descent into exhaustion and nausea. Which is not where she wanted to be while Spooky was crashing violently on the other end of the line._

_She tried to stay awake, to talk about something, anything, to distract Spooky from the things she saw in the edges of her vision. But there was too much alcohol in her blood, too much secondhand smoke in her lungs, too many waking hours behind her._

_Tilly passed out on the floor, and Spooky spent the night surrounded by handfuls of her own fur, her fingers covered in blood and bite marks._

_Spooky had promised that was the last time, never again, she’d find some other way to deal with the paranoia and hallucinations that plagued her with nightmares. Bandages covered her hands and her arms and legs were plucked clean to the point where other does asked if she was pregnant._

_When she didn’t answer the phone for over a day, Tilly put a fist through the window and broke into Spooky’s apartment. There wasn’t any fur on the floor, but the pharmacy on the kitchen counter was explanation enough for the body lying unconscious on the couch._

_“I either sleep too much or not enough,” Spooky slurred once Tilly had finally gotten her awake, eyes glazed over._

_This time Tilly held her head in her lap until it all wore off, kicking and screaming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 Literally, “mid-sun food.” Or, lunch. [ return to text ]
> 
> 7 Literally, “The slight-fear leader needs help.” _Bralnao_ (to fear,) with the suffix _-kyt_ (a small amount) being the way the lops have chosen to say Spooky’s preferred name in Lapine. [ return to text ]


	4. Chapter Three

Tilly had never been to Ash Hill. Hell, she’d barely been out of Narn-Hain before Spooky became Rah. All she knew about it was that it wasn’t nearly as big of a city as Lynfort, and their Hrair was of absolutely no threat to Crixa. A couple of small-time warrens, but nothing significant.

She and Spooky had made most of the two-hour drive in silence, the only sounds the drone of the engine of Spooky’s high-end sedan and the soft music filtering from its speakers. Spooky fidgeted in her seat, lost in her thoughts. She’d managed to find a mostly-clean shirt to throw on underneath her jacket, and by some good fortune it actually made a coherent outfit. A first.

Dusk turned the sky a deep royal blue as they drove along downtown streets, guided by the GPS on Tilly’s phone. After many turns and turnarounds, they pulled into an hourly parking lot, Tilly feeding the kiosk enough bills to give them hopefully all the time they needed.

The streets were lined with bars and massage parlours, their signs glowing with dying neon in the growing darkness. The night was only just beginning to come alive, a few groups of pedestrians milling around front doors and cars parked at meters on the street.

“So what’s the plan?” Tilly asked, looking around at the unfamiliar scenery.

“When in doubt, ask at a bar,” Spooky replied, pushing open the door of the nearest lounge and walking inside.

The acrid stench of too much smoke and not enough ventilation washed over them like a wave, stinging Tilly’s eyes. When she had blinked enough to see, she was suddenly aware of a dozen pairs of eyes on her, each and every one hungry in the same way. Underneath the smoke and alcohol, Tilly could smell the sharp tang of blood.

“Can I help y’all?” asked the coyote standing behind the bar, pupils glowing in the dim light as he sized the rabbits up. The glint of a pack collar shone underneath his thick neck fur.

Spooky decided to own her mistake of walking into a predator lounge, swaggering up to the bar, leaning over on one elbow. “I’m lookin’ for some guy named Axel Birchpelt, know anyone goin’ by that?”

“Nope.”

“Ya sure? I heard his stompin’ grounds was ‘round here somewhere.”

“I don’t usually get involved in the affairs of my dinners,” the coyote replied, curling his lip. A couple of the other patrons at the bar snickered.

Spooky grinned in a lazy, nonchalant way that was blatantly designed to get a rise out of anyone she spoke to. “Aww, shame ‘bout that. Know anyone else that would know where he’s at? I reaaaally need to find him.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,  _ Hrair _ . I ain’t gettin’ involved with whatever you’re schemin’.” The coyote’s teeth clicked together. “Now get outta my bar unless you wanna end up on someone’s plate.”

Spooky sighed dramatically, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a roll of bills. She thumbed through it, taking her time, before pulling out a couple of two-leafs and laying them on the bar top. “Ya can at least get me an’ my lovely companion here a shot, eh? I hate goin’ in a bar and not buyin’  _ somethin’ _ .”

The bartender studied her with narrowed eyes before taking the money and replacing it with two shot glasses. “Whatcha want.”

Spooky leaned back from the bar, shouting to Tilly across the floor. “Whiskey?”

Tilly nodded from her spot against the wall, keeping an eye on the room.

“Two whiskeys, best that’ll get me,” Spooky said, back to the bartender, pointing at the cash still in his hand.

He poured them silently, gently pushing the glasses toward the rabbit and turning away. “Enjoy.”

“Not talking?” Tilly asked when Spooky handed her the glass.

“Nah, this place is all sharp teeth and yella eyes. We gotta find somewhere run by a prey animal.”

“So, what, we keep walkin’ into every bar in the city ‘til we find the right one?”

Spooky grinned. “I gotta grand an’ a sharp knife on me an’ the night is young. Worst case scenario we gotta get a hotel ‘cause we get smashed on courtesy shots.”

She held up her glass, clicking it against Tilly’s “ _ Veth loseer [[8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56779573#note8)] _ .”

It was actually pretty good whiskey.

  
  
  
  
  


“Well this was a fuckin’ bust,” Spooky whined, hands on her hips, stretching up and backwards, her back popping. “Five different bars an’ I ain’t got nothin’ but poorer.”

“An’ drunker,” Tilly groaned, leaning against a slowly dying street lamp. The blinking light was making her feel like she was back in the weasel-centric nightclub they’d just been practically thrown out of, somehow with all limbs attached. The pounding of the bass was still audible, even up a full flight of stairs and through steel double-doors.

“All’ese joints is run by fuckin’ sharp-tooth dipshits,” Spooky continued. “Ain’t nobody wanna talk to me.”

“Maybe we’re just on the wrong side o’ town,” Tilly offered, blinking as the world pitched around her. “Or we gotta pay more.’

Spooky checked the roll of bills in her jacket. “I only got like...a couple four-leafs left.”

“Jus’ give the whole roll o’ cash to the next guy an’ see what it gets ya. If it don’t work, then you can bust the knife out on the next rabbit we run into.”

Spooky sighed. “Fine. We’ll do it yer way.”

They spent the next twenty minutes scouring the district for any kind of club or bar that seemed to at least somewhat cater to individuals that did not have canine teeth. They more they walked, the more Tilly was realising that five shots was just too much for her tiny little body, and the world was blurring around her faster than she’d like. It was already a struggle to keep up with Spooky’s long strides, and the addition of a fresh wave of nausea with every footfall was making her lag behind even more. She relegated herself to being dragged through the streets, struggling not to pass out on the sidewalk like a salary worker.

After what felt like hours Spooky finally stopped all too suddenly, Tilly smacking into her from behind.

“Yo, Tillyroo, this is Lapine, right?”

Tilly blinked, looking up at a very nondescript sign screwed into a plain steel door. The dimly lit symbols swam a little, but finally focused and... “Yeah, that’s Lapine.”

“Any idea what it says?”

The effort required extreme concentration. Gods she hadn’t tried to read Lapine in so long. “Ma...lé...fi...cent... _ol_ _tuhl [[9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56779573#note8)]_. I’m guessing it’s a name. Maléficent owns the ...exit hole?”

Spooky studied the sign. “Well it’s the only thing even remotely rabbit-exclusive we’ve seen all night, so c’mon.”

Tilly expected cigarette smoke and another aural assault, but instead of hot, panting bodies, she found herself standing in a tiny, intimate lounge. Instead of champagne and cocktails, the scattered groups of patrons were circled around what appeared to be thin glass octopi. The air was perfumed, heady.

A heavily silvered black doe looked up from where she was kneeling next to a group of rabbits, a guest check and a pencil in her hands. When she noticed Spooky and Tilly, her face split into a wide smile. “Ooh! New faces!”

Tilly was captivated by the way the doe’s hips swayed as she walked up to them, her short-cropped top showing just a hint of her belly, her legs almost entirely uncovered. There was a small shooting star tattoo at the tip of her ear.

“Mama Maléficent, at your service,” she said, bowing dramatically. Her eyes wandered up to the tattoos in Tilly and Spooky’s ears. “You guys here for the front or the back of the shop?”

“Is there a difference?”

Maléficent smiled. “You’ll want the back, trust me. C’mon, follow me.”

The swinging hips led them behind the liquor bar at the back of the lounge, her delicate hands holding back a beaded curtain suspended from an archway. “Pick whatever seat you like, sweethearts,” she purred. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

This back area was a far cry from where they’d just come from. Instead of dimmed light and soft jewel-tone cushions, this room had little lighting other than black-lights that gave everything an otherworldly purple glow. The pathways between the booths were lit by pink neons, and the tables were underlit in blue. The air was laced with something heavier than tobacco, and Tilly felt light-headed as she and Spooky made their way to a booth near the back. Spooky wrapped an arm around Tilly’s waist, depositing her gently into the soft leather cushion before sitting next to her, fidgeting in her seat.

After a moment a waitress with silvered gray fur and a star that matched Maléficent’s sashayed over to their booth to take their drink orders. Tilly took a nice hot tea, while Spooky decided to forego drinks in favour of fishing her cigarettes out of her jacket.

“Oh come  _ on _ ,” came Maléficent’s voice from behind them. One black hand settled on the top of their hookah, the other waving a small bowl. “All the shisha in my storeroom and you’re lighting up a Hi-Lite, damn.”

She set the bowl on top of the hookah, hands working swiftly at setting the contraption up. Tilly tried to follow, but it was too dark to make out anything even if she could see straight. The smell of pot and something fruity floated through the booth.

“I saw the crown in your ear, so I got you somethin’ good.” Maléficent crooned. “Can’t say I recognize your tattoo, though, where are you two from?”

“Lynfort,” Spooky replied.

“Ooh, the big city. First time in Ash Hill?”

“It’s been a while. Actually, I was hopin’ ya could help us out a lil’ bit. We’ve been lookin’ for someone named Axel Birchpelt, I’m guessin’ he’s a rabbit. We was told he operated outta this area.”

Maléficent ’s dreamy expression hardened. “Where’d you say you were from?”  
Tilly could hear Spooky’s teeth grinding. “Lynfort. Down south. Look, I’m jus’ tryna find someone involved with yer Hrair or Soft Heart or whatever to answer a question for us, that’s it. We ain’t got nothin’ to do with whatever’s goin’ on in this town with y’all’s warren shit.”

Maléficent studied the two does for a long moment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Think...y’might’ve got the _elil_ [[10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56779573#note10)]called on us,” Tilly slurred, taking a big sip of her tea. It was pleasantly warm, not hot enough to scald.

“In a place like this? Nah. Worst’ll happen is she brings in some big buck to crack us, an’ we get our exercise for the day.”

Throat now wet, Tilly reached out and grabbed one of the pipes snaking out of the hookah. “How’s this thing work?”

She felt Spooky shrug against her shoulder. Well, it couldn’t be that hard; she’d been smoking since she was half a kit. There was no reason why this thing was any more difficult to use than any of the homemade bongs she and the other  _ silfessil _ used to bust out. She breathed in deep, and tasted burning.

“Not too fast,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Hookah burns real easy.”

Tilly coughed. “Thanks for the warning.”

A tall, thin doe slid into the booth across from Spooky, crossing her legs in front of her and setting a steaming teacup onto the table. Her fur was white, glowing bluish-purple in the blacklight, with deep black patches around her eyes, mouth, and ears. Underneath each eye was a small black spot, which Tilly found incredibly attractive. Deep in her left ear was an all too familiar heart tattoo.

“Maléficent said you were looking for Axel Birchpelt.”

Spooky leaned forward on the table, eyes narrowing. “Yeah. We got a coupla questions for ‘im.”

The spotted doe helped herself to the hookah, keeping her eyes on Spooky as she drew a measured breath, replacing the pipe with a deep drink of tea, savouring the combined flavour before exhaling.

Spooky followed her example, now satisfied she wasn’t going to drop dead. “Ya gonna talk or we gonna hafta take this outside?”

“No, no. Just. It’s nothing.”

Spooky shifted back in her seat, crossing her arms. “I ain’t gettin’ any younger, lady.”

The spotted doe sighed. “Axel...isn’t around anymore. Car crash, a few weeks ago. I’m his sister, Pixie. It’s obviously a work name, but I gotta have some kind of anonymity in my industry.”

“An’ what kinda industry is that?”

“Prostitutes, clearly.”

“Y’all breeders?”  
“No, more like an employment agency. We match does and bucks to establishments like brothels, escort services, nightclubs, that kind of thing.”

Spooky pointed to Pixie’s ear. “Y’all deal in kits, ever?”

“Not us, personally; we’re all legal age, or close enough. I know pimps that do, though, why? Lookin’ for some?”

“ _ Fuck _ no. But we got one back at my place that’s got yer tattoo in her ear an’ figured ya might want it back.”

“ _ My _ tattoo? On a kit?”

Tilly spoke up. “Got her from a dead Hrair buck with a thistle tattoo an’ half an ear. Sound familiar?”

Pixie’s ears fell. “Owsla?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice was quiet, barely audible over the ambient music. “Ennarah didn’t say anything about her Owsla dying.”

Spooky leaned forward, suddenly deadly serious. “What did ya say that Rah’s name was again?”

“Enna; she got elected to Tamina a year or so ago,” Pixie said, alternating drags on the hookah with sips of her tea. “Gingerrah’s old, going blind, but don’t tell anyone you heard that from me. I guess technically she’s still Rah? But Enna’s the one calling the shots.”

“Prolly why I ain’t known about it,” Spooky growled.

She relaxed finally, smoking the hookah as she filled Pixie in on the day’s events, sinking into the seat with her feet propped up on the table. Tilly tried to join them again, but gagged on the second inhale and decided that laying down in Spooky’s lap was a better idea than making an ass of herself in a stranger’s lounge.

Pixie stroked at her chin. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me Red died...”

“Ya really think a Rah would be tellin’ an  _ émarli [[11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/56779573#note11)] _ ‘bout somethin’ as potentially dangerous as an Owlsa gettin’ disgraced an’ knocked off?” Spooky laughed. “Also, to be fair, it was at like fuck in the mornin’, an’ I ain’t know who he belonged to ‘til like...right now.”

“Still, he was my warren contact, so you’d think I’d at have had some kind of heads up that he was excommunicated.” Pixie frowned. “I’m gonna have to ask her about this shit.”

“While yer there, ask her who the doe of his fuckin’ kit was so she can come get her,” Spooky mumbled. “Actually the whole reason why we’re up here.”

“There is _ no _ telling. That warren made their money selling tail and I wouldn’t be surprised if Red didn’t break in every doe they sold. Dude had a crazy libido, even for a rabbit.”

“If it helps, the kit’s some kind of steel an’ silver or somethin’. Actually kinda unique lookin.”

“Hm.”

Spooky sighed. “Well, thanks for the info, anyway. Yer more helpful n’ literally anyone else’s been in this town tonight. Thought I was gonna hafta beat it outta someone.” She craned her neck around the booth, trying to find someone to take her money.

“Don’t worry about it,” Pixie said, waving a hand. “Maléficent owes me one, and even if she decides she wants to make me actually pay for once, it’s worth it just to say I got to meet Spookyrah. Next time we can talk about something a bit more fun while we smoke, and maybe your girl won’t drink so much she passes out.”

Spooky gave a small smile, looking down at the sleeping doe in her lap. “Hah, she’s so tiny, three shots an’ she’s done. Add weed to it an’ she knocks out in minutes. Never could drink an’ smoke at the same time with her, even when we was _ silfessil _ .”

“I bet she’s a blast at parties.”

“She never was big on partyin’...that was always more my thing.”

Carefully, Spooky slid her arm underneath Tilly’s shoulders and knees, lifting her up off of the booth. The sleeping doe mumbled, rubbing her face into Spooky’s chest.

“Ya exclusive with Tamina? Tilly’s got some clubs comin’ up that we’ll need does for.”

“I’ll call ya…” Pixie hummed, more than happy to finish the rest of the hookah. “When I find out who your baby mama is we can talk tail.” She waggled her fingers lazily. “Sweet dreams, you two.”

  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


_ Tilly’s legs ached. Even as she stretched on the floor, curling her fingertips over the tips of her toes, she knew that she’d be stiff and sore in the morning. But the burn in her shoulders was pleasant, as was the sting in her knuckles, the metal taste of blood in her mouth. There was something so intoxicating about beating the everloving shit out of a punk buck who thought he was Frith’s gift to does. _

_ Next to her, Spooky was stretching her arms above her head, bowing her back so deep her ears nealy touched her tail, groaning dramatically. _

_ “Fuckin’ hell that felt good,” she sighed, dropping back against the couch, content. “Ain’t had a scrap like that in weeks.” She grinned, something like awe in her voice. “Y’were on fire, Tils, fuck. Ain’t never seen ya move like that before. Was like watchin’ poetry.” _

_ “Yeah, well, I had to learn how to move like that ‘cause you never give me a fuckin’ break.” Tilly quipped, reaching to one side and grabbing the neck of a cheap bottle of whiskey and dragging it between her knees. She struggled to remove the cap, the seal holding tight and her hands too tired to add much force to the twist. _

_ Spooky finished off the beer she’d been drinking, tossing the bottle into a nearby trash can to join its numerous brethren from days ago. _

_ “Ya need some help there, Tillyroo?” she asked, leaning her weight into Tilly’s shoulder. _

_ Tilly opened her mouth to object, but Spooky was already snaking her arms around Tilly’s waist, reaching for the bottle. She twisted the cap off easily, tossing it across the apartment. “There ya go.” _

_ “I coulda got it,” Tilly grumbled, snatching the whiskey from Spooky and pouring it into a pair of shot glasses. She handed one to Spooky, then held up her own. _

_ “Here’s to finally gettin’ promoted!” Tilly sang, and downed the shot. _

_ It didn’t take long before she was seeing after-images on the world every time she moved. She’d spent most of her luxury money on that whiskey, and she was intent on enjoying it. _

_ “Can’t believe we’re finally gettin’ proper office jobs,” Tilly sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. “I thought we’d be broke-ass  _ silfessil _ forever.” _

_ “Let’s just hope we don’t get bosses with sticks up their asses.” _

_ “Man you’re prolly gonna get some hot babe, and I’ll be stuck with the old fucker that complains about his  _ rusasthi _ all day,” Tilly grumbled. “I never understood that shit. If you’re gonna make that kind of promise to someone, wouldn’t you pick someone you actually like?” _

_ “You’d think,” Spooky agreed. “Not like anyone would ever be willin’ to put up with my stupid ass, but If I did ya ain’t never hear me complainin’.” _

_ Tilly waved her hand over the general area of her neck, and the lack of a dewlap thereof. “At least nobody thinks you’re a freak.” _

_ “Ya sure ‘bout that?” _

_ Tilly looked up at her, an odd feeling sitting in her stomach. She might have written it off as the whiskey had it not started crawling up into her chest.  _

_ Spooky raised the bottle to her lips, and Tilly was now hyper-aware of the way her throat moved, the way her chin sunk into the soft roll on her neck as she pulled her lips back and hissed at the burn. The way her dark brown eyes glittered in the TV light as she turned to look at Tilly. _

_ “Y’alright?” Spooky asked, giving Tilly a sideways smile. _

_ She lifted herself up onto her fingertips, leaning upwards to find the other doe at the exact moment Spooky looked down at her. Tilly’s forehead cracked into Spooky’s jaw with enough force to ignite fireworks behind Tilly’s eyes, and she dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. _

_ Spooky never said anything the next day when they woke up with dry mouths and headaches, orange and black hands rubbing her jawline absently as she made coffee for two. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 Literally, “to be wet.” Or, “cheers”! [ return to text ]
> 
> 9 Literally, the entrance and exit hole to a warren, leading to the outdoors.  
>  [ return to text ]
> 
> 10 Literally, “enemy.” A very strong word to mean enemies of the Hrair, usually the police.  
>  [ return to text ]
> 
> 11 Literally, “mate-doe.” Historically used to refer to a doe ready to breed, but modernly is the Lapine word for a madame. The term for pimp would be _étarli_.  
>  [ return to text ]


	5. Chapter Four

Tilly greeted consciousness the next morning like a virgin doe greets a buck: smashed into a corner and growling. Her head pounded a raver beat into her head, and briefly she wondered if they were still in a nightclub, before realizing she was laying on a bed and there was sunlight shining on the wall next to her.

She sat up with a groan, wiggling out of the crack between the bed and the wall that she’d somehow fallen into. On the nightstand between the two hotel beds, the clock read just after ten in the morning.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Spooky said from her spot on the opposite bed, her voice grainy, eyes bloodshot.

Tilly rubbed her face. “I feel like I got run over by a truck.”

“Ya look like it too.”

Tilly tried to laugh, but the action hurt. She dragged herself out of the bed and to the bathroom sink, where she sucked down two full paper cups worth of water before the dryness in her mouth somewhat subsided.

“So what happened after I checked out?”

“More talkin’ ‘bout Enna an’ prostitutes an’ how yer kit’s daddy was real into testin’ out the wares. Spotty doe gonna get back with me ‘bout his ladies an’ ‘bout gettin’ ya some new girls.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“One step closer to knowin’ where ya baby came from.”

“But not  _ why _ .”

“D’ya need a why?”

“The way you’re talking makes me think you killed that kit’s buck yourself just ‘cause you think I wanna be a mom.”

“I’d do a lotta things for ya, Tils, but murder a family just so ya can have one lil’ kit ain’t one of ‘em.” She grinned. “I’d at least make sure ya get a whole set.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Well, that was a fun an’ ultimately inconclusive road trip,” Spooky groaned, snapping her seatbelt and wiggling in her seat, attempting to find a position to slouch in that didn’t involve her sitting on her tail.

“You didn’t have to come, you know.” Tilly replied, cranking the car. “Me an’ Tass coulda figured it out.”

Spooky frowned out at the city, less exciting now that the neon was off and the nightclubs were quiet. It was raining again, drowning out the sound of the radio deejay rattling on about weekday traffic. “I was just kinda hopin’ it’d give me more n’ ‘well I’ll let ya know’ and a source for some new workin’ girls, y’know?”

Tilly gave her a placating smile. “At least you got outta town for a bit? Saw the sights?”

Spooky rubbed her nose. “It was a nice change of pace.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly turned the car onto the unmarked gravel road that led to the Crixa building, the sound of rocks popping under tires welcoming the rabbits back home. All she could think of was fixing herself some lunch and curling up in her bed for a nap. She could only hope that someone had taken the kit so she didn’t come barging in begging for ice cream or some shit and wake Tilly up.

They parked behind the house in Spooky’s personal garage, the nondescript silver sedan looking out of place next to the glittering black limo parked in the adjacent space.

“Well the evenin’ of bein’ dry was nice,” Spooky mumbled as they stepped out into the rain, jogging the short distance from the garage to the back utility door of the house. The ground hadn’t had time to dry from the days of near constant drizzling, and puddles were already forming in the low part of the lawn, pooling in the sagging concrete pathways. Even a rabbit’s strides were not long enough to make the distance, and they both ended up with wet feet.

Tilly shook water out of her fur as she pulled her blazer off, draping it over one arm. “There laundry in this fuckin’ mansion or am I gonna hafta find a washateria?”

“Second door on yer right on the way to the parlour,” Spooky replied. “Or ya can ask Trinity to do it for ya. It’s her job.”

“Is _ that  _ her name?”

Spooky snorted, trying not to laugh.

She pushed open the door to the main part of the house just as Tassadar came skidding down the uncarpeted hallway, nails screeching against the tile flooring as he tried to stop his momentum. His nose was pulled up as he struggled to take in enough oxygen, ears pinched tight.

“Tilly! Spooky! The round room!”

Spooky reached out and grabbed him by the arm, sending his feet sliding on the floor again. “Chill out, kid, what’cha talkin’ ‘bout, the round room? What’s goin’ on?”

He was panting, gray eyes blown wide. “They got us again.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“This jus’ keeps gettin’ better n’ better, don’t it,” Spooky growled, pacing her office. She was clawing at her arms through the sleeves of her shirt with one hand, the other covering up the nosebleed she didn’t want Tilly to know about.

“I shoulda known them fuckers would come here. I knew better n’ to go to fuckin’ Ash Hill. Who the fuck is bringin’ this shit to me?” She kicked at a trash can, sending crumpled papers skittering across the floor. “Fuck!”

Tilly sat in seething silence as Spooky lit her fifth cigarette of the hour, hands shaking.

“When I find these _embleer roolithi_ [[12](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/57159079#note12)] I’m gonna kill ‘em with my own two hands.”

  
  


There had been a lot of blood soaked into the foyer rugs.

“Dey was hopped up on somethin’, I could smell it on ‘em,” Juliet had said, blood matting her fur on the left side of her face. “Prolly why dey was stupid enough to take on three of us in broad daylight.”

On the floor by her feet, Ten’s breaths were coming in short, rapid gasps, hands futilely attempting to stop the thick blood from dripping down his arm. Raszagal was propping him up on her shoulder, seemingly oblivious that a good portion of her right ear tip was missing.

Juliet had looked up at Tilly with something like spite in her eyes. “Glad t’see yer still safe an’ sound up here, _ boss _ .’

  
  


Spooky’s leg was tapping the side of her desk in a frantic rhythm. “Try ‘er again.”

Tilly obliged, opening the phone app and tappin N’rithaa’s name for what felt like the hundredth time. It rang three times, then went to voicemail.

“Nope, still nothing.”

“Shit.”

Panic began to crawl up the back of Tilly’s neck. N’rithaa wasn’t always the best about answering her phone when she was busy, but it’d been half an hour and Tilly was still getting voicemail every time she called. N’rithaa was a tough rabbit, but so was Ten, and he'd nearly bled out on the carpet.

Tilly stood up, shoving her phone into her pocket. “I’m going to Riverside.”

“What? Why? If yer wantin’ to scout out the place we got  _ silfessil _ for that.”

“I know that territory better than anyone else in this warren except maybe Tassadar. If he comes with me we’ll have a better chance out of any of us to find her.”

Spooky stepped in front of her, blocking the path to the doorway, nose flared. “You are not leaving this building.”

“Yeah, I am. Let me pass.”

Spooky squared up, making use of the full head’s height she had on Tilly. “Let me send the mooks.”

“Those fuckers have incapacitated  _ N’rithaa _ . What makes you think some one-leaf fresh recruit is gonna do any better?”

“That applies to you too, y’know? Whatcha gonna do if ya get shot up? Ain’t nobody outrun a bullet, Tilly.”

There was a tinge of panic rising up in Spooky’s voice that almost unnerved Tilly more than the thought of N’rithaa bleeding out on the barroom floor. Spooky made a name for herself by being utterly fearless, but the orange doe’s eyes were wide and bloodshot and there was blood caked around her flared-up nose and suddenly Tilly realized that Spooky was  _ fucking terrified _ .

Tilly grasped Spooky’s elbows, her fingers pressing into the fabric of the sleeves tight enough to feel the bare skin underneath. She looked up into Spooky’s eyes. “Trust me.”

She didn’t wait for the reply before ducking around her Rah and bolting out of the office.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“You know we’re bein’ set up, right?” Tassadar asked from the passenger seat.

“I know.”

“And you’re still goin’ in?”

Tilly fixed him with a gaze that was more steady than she felt. “You can stay if you want. There’s no real reason why you need to come in; you’re not even Hrair yet.”

Tassadar pulled a kevlar vest over his head and tightened the straps. “Hell no. I ain’t swore an oath yet, but there’s no way I’m letting an opportunity to show what I’m made of pass me by.”

Tilly passed him a handgun she’d swiped from Spooky’s safe. “Then watch my back.”

They left N’rithaa’s car parked around the corner from Tilly’s bar, approaching the back parking lot by foot.

“Aunt Rasz and Juliet said they left mom here when they went get some paperwork stuff,” Tassadar said softly, triple-checking the magazine of the gun. “Good a place to start as any.”

Tilly pushed open the bar’s back door as quietly as possible, letting the door close gently on her hand before seating it. The office smelled like cigarettes and Juliet’s perfume, and not a single item was out of place. Juliet’s ledger was closed and locked, Tilly’s desk was still piled high with paperwork she never got around to handling, and the closet full of emergency sweaters was still completely stocked. The heat kicked on, the ducts rattling in the ceiling.

Tassadar moved silently across the office towards the door leading to the bar floor, pressing an ear to the wood for a moment, listening before turning the knob and pushing it open. He led with the gun, leaning his head through the gap and peering around before squeezing out, hyper-aware of every sound and movement.

The chairs were still set on top of the tables, the shades on the windows drawn, bathing the room in a reddish haze. The carpets still bore vacuum lines, and the air smelled faintly of cleaner. Tilly nearly let herself relax when she saw movement in the reflection of the TVs on the wall, snapping her attention to the bar across the room.

Sitting in one of the barstools with a glass in one hand was a huge buck with white fur that turned sooty gray at his elbows, ears, and mouth. The dim light made his red eyes glow like some unholy beast, and when he saw Tilly he stood, smiling a predator’s smile.

“Hellooooo...finally someone fucking shows up. Was hopin’ to talk to the boss, know where he’s at?”

“I am the boss,” Tilly said, cautiously.

Beside her, she could sense Tassadar coiled like a spring, every muscle in his body tense. He stood slightly in front of her, pointing the gun at the other buck’s chest. “Who are you?”

The red-eyed buck sneered. “Didn’t your mama teach you not to play with guns, little man? Put that down before someone gets hurt.”

Tassadar’s grip tightened.

The buck finished off his drink and slowly began to amble towards them, swinging his legs out wide. “Name’s Randy,” he said, rolling the first syllable. “Hope you don’t mind I helped myself to the bar; I’ll send one of my boys to come pay the tab later. Woulda waited ‘til you opened, but I was so kindly lent the keys by your big bitchy secretary, and it’d started to rain, so…”

“Where is she?” Tilly growled.

Randy waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s having a nice nap in the back room, safe and sound where I left her. Had to smack her around a bit; she might wanna go to to hospital when she gets up. But I ain’t that much of an asshole that I’d hurt a lady _ too  _ bad.”

Tassadar’s lips curled back, his finger wrapping around the trigger as he raised the gun to Randy’s head.

Quick as lightning, Randy’s hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun, wrenching Tassadar’s arm at an angle, the shot punching a hole into the carpet at their feet. With one smooth motion Randy broke Tassadar’s grip, flipping the gun around so the handle sat in his hand instead.

“I told you to put that away, boy,” Randy growled, and racked the slide.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The shot that dropped Tassadar was still ringing in Tilly’s ears as Randy slid the gun into the waistband of his pants. “At least he was smart enough to wear a vest,” he mumbled. “He’s not completely stupid.”

He turned back to Tilly, giving her another wolf’s smile. “So, where were we? Oh, yes.” He put a hand on her shoulder, digging his thumb into her collarbone. She could smell the gin on his breath, and could clearly make out the digits of his green ink-dot prison tattoo in his right ear, the black lines and circles of his gang sign in his left. “A little birdie told me someone in your warren has something I want. Maybe you’ve seen it - about yea high, black and silver fur, probably missing a few toes. Know where it might be?”

Tilly held his gaze. “No.”

“You’d better not be lying. ‘Cause if you are, I’ll come after you, next.”

“So that was  _ you  _ who knocked my rabbits around.”

Randy made a hissing sound. “Yeah, not my best work, to be honest. I’ve got some talented-ass boys under me, but every now and then you get a dud that doesn’t know how to fuckin’ assassinate someone properly. Took me a whole day to sniff out where the bastard had run off to so I could declaw him.” He sighed. “You  _ sure _ you don’t know where the kit went?”

“No.”

He patted her on the cheek. “I’m gonna believe you for now, sweetheart. But be a good doe and let me know as soon as you find out, mmkay? Its head’s worth a lotta money.”

Tilly sunk her teeth into his hand, feeling tendon and bone crunch beneath razor sharp incisors as she bit clean through. Randy howled, his free fist connecting with the side of Tilly’s head, knocking her against a table, glass candle holders shattering on the floor. He reared back for another strike, but Tilly was faster, bringing her knee up between his legs with as much force as she could manage.

He sucked air through his teeth and snarled, the strike barely phasing him. “Ain’t the first time someone’s done that,” he gasped. “You can learn how not to react, you know.” His undamaged hand was creeping down his side towards his pocket where he’d stowed Tassadar’s gun.

Tilly slid off of the table, dropping to the ground and taking a swipe at the gun, hands missing the target and scrabbling at his belt loops instead. She tried to roll away from him, but that punch had rattled her more than she liked, and she was too slow. He got a handful of her collar and flipped her over onto her back, pressing one knee into her shoulder and holding down her opposite arm with his own, pinning her to the floor, his free hand around her throat.

She stared up into Randy’s wide, translucent pupils.

“Nah,” he said through ragged breaths, turning her face up and to the side, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “I shoulda known you weren’t a good doe.”

He lifted her by the throat and slammed her head against the floor, a resounding crack echoing through Tilly’s brain as her world went black.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The sound of a clicking tongue penetrated the deep black haze of Tilly’s consciousness, crisp and clear against a background of warbling static, like being underwater. She could feel the air move against her short, curled whiskers, a hand waving in front of her face.

The next thing she became aware of was a pain that started between her eyes and radiated around to the back of her skull and down her neck into her spine, like every nerve in her face was on fire.

“Oh thank Frith,” said Tassadar’s voice, and through slitted eyes Tilly could see his silhouette sit back on his heels.

Sitting up was the most painful task that Tilly had ever undertaken in her life. She had to stop and catch her breath halfway through, her stomach rolling and her mouth filling with saliva.

After several excruciating seconds her eyes managed to focus on Tassadar, and slightly behind him, N’rithaa, both crouched in front of her with looks of concern on their faces. Tassadar had stripped off both his shirt and his spent vest, no doubt a hefty bruise already beginning to blossom underneath his fur.

“Glad you’re okay,” Tilly gasped, the sound of her own voice sending fresh waves of pain cascading through her head.

“Yeah, you too,” Tassadar replied, wincing. “Glad you told me to wear a vest.”

“Our red-eyed pal skipped town already,” N’rithaa said, looking over her shoulder. She had one of the emergency sweaters pulled on over her t-shirt, not quite covering the huge gash splitting her chest from shoulder to ribs. “Took my fuckin’ car, too.”

Tilly groaned.

Tassadar gingerly touched his chest, wincing. “I called a cab...should be here soon to take us to the hospital.”

“Good. Good...good job, Tass.”

“No problem.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly expected Spooky to either slug her or scold her the instant she walked in the door of the Crixa building.

Instead the orange doe had jumped out of her seat and flew across the room with panic in her eyes, wrapping her arms around Tilly and pulling her into her chest.

Spooky’s voice shook as hard as her hands as she spoke into Tilly’s head fur.

“Holy shit yer fuckin’ alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 Literally, “stinking sons.” Basically the rabbit version of “sons of bitches.”  
>  [ return to text ]


	6. Chapter Five

Two hours and an uncomfortable amount of lights shone into various parts of Tilly’s body later, the hospital finally let her go. Outside the front doors, Tassadar was waiting, smoking, trying not to breathe in too heavily for fear of irritating his bruised ribs.

She was already swallowing a painkiller as she slid into the passenger seat of a rental car, Tassadar cranking the engine in the driver’s seat beside her.

“We need to put a guard on Rosette,” Tilly said after they’d made it onto the highway. “Red-eyes McFuckface is lookin’ for her specifically.”

“Why the fuck would he be looking for a kit?”

“No clue, but he was very transparent about what he’d do to find her, so it’s obviously somethin’ pretty important.”

“This is fuckin’ crazy.”

“Welcome to the Hrair.”

Spooky had called in the military, and a smattering of soldiers and the Owsla’s bodyguards were scattered around the formerly quiet house, sitting in meeting rooms, smoking on the patio, or in the kitchen complaining about the quality of the coffee. There were only maybe twenty rabbits in the building but the sound of their voices echoing off of the high vaulted ceilings was like standing next to the speakers at a concert in Tilly’s concussed brain.

The upstairs hallway was at least a little bit quieter. A soft sigh escaped her lungs as she shut the door to her room behind her, enveloping herself in a blanket of silence and darkness. The drugs were finally starting to kick in, turning the pain from a wildfire to a dull ache. She dragged herself across the room, lowering herself into the pillow and curling up into a little ball.

After what felt like both seconds and hours, someone knocked on the door. “Gotcha lunch,” came Tassadar’s muffled voice from the other side.

The hallway lights were like needles in the backs of Tilly’s eyes, but Tassadar was holding a bag emblazoned with the logo of a cafe down the street that was emanating smells that reminded Tilly she hadn’t eaten all day. As she turned to disappear back into her room with her food, she felt a bump on her leg, tiny hands wrapping around her thigh.

“I thought you were coming back last night.”

Tilly pulled the kit into the room with her, shutting the door. “I got sick and we had to stay the night.”

Rosette sniffed. “You got drunk.”

“You’re too smart.”

Tilly sat on the bed to eat, begrudgingly allowing Rosette to climb into her lap and shove her little hands in the bag, re-emerging with a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper and a bag of salt and vinegar chips clutched between her fingers - Tilly's exact usual order from when she lived here. Tassadar had to have asked Spooky, there was nobody else that would know this. She smiled to herself. Sometimes, he was a good kid.

Rosette stole a bite of Tilly’s sandwich before Tilly herself could snatch it away from her.

“Miss Spookyrah came back before you,” she said, her mouth full.

“Tass and I had to go run an errand back in town, where I live.”

“I wanna go,” Rosette whined. “It’s boring here, there’s nothing to do. I keep winning at gin and nobody wants to play poker.”

“It wasn’t anything you’d have enjoyed, trust me.”

“How do you know?”  
“‘Cause it was Hrair stuff.”

Rosette gave a long “ohhhh,” before popping open the chip bag and shoving one in her mouth. She winced, but ultimately reached for another.

“I’ll tell you about my other trip though, the one I got drunk on,” Tilly said, and she could see the kit’s eyes light up even in the dimness of the room.

She gave her the watered-down version of the excursion to Ash Hill, and Rosette hung on every word, idly stealing bites of Tilly’s lunch. The descriptions of the other species Tilly had encountered, especially the predators, had Rosette’s eyes widening, enthralled at the idea of creatures other than rabbits. Tilly realized that she may very well have been too young to have seen even mice, much less coyotes.

Tilly’s only real experience with kits were when their nursing does came back from their maternity leaves and occasionally brought them to the office when the kitsitter wasn’t available. At the time Tilly pretended she couldn’t stand the incessant questions and tiny hands getting into every little thing imaginable, but truth be told she found it endearing. A curious little mind, eager to learn about the world around her, and its only source of experience and knowledge the older rabbits around it.

She just wished she’d had the instincts to know how to truly handle them, to speak on their level, to play their games. Because of this, she’d mostly watched from the outside, wishing she wasn’t so clumsy and over-formal. Rosette, with all her intelligence beyond her years, was the closest to comfortable Tilly had felt around a kit in her entire life.

When they were done eating and the wax paper and chip bag had been crumpled and tossed into the trash, the two of them lay down on the bed to watch a movie on Tilly’s phone, and Rosette eventually drifted to sleep, Tilly losing herself in the smell of kit fur lingering in the blankets.

  
  
  
  
  


“Uh, can you please come to the foyer with me?” Trinity’s voice quavered ever so slightly as she stood stock-straight in the doorway to Tilly’s room, hands clasped behind her back.

Tilly stared at her for a good ten seconds before she remembered who she was looking at. Slightly more than the recommended dose of aspirin was helping the headache, but the forgetting where she was every five minutes was starting to grow old, fast. It had been hours; how long did it take a concussion to go away?

“Whaddaya want,” she said, sounding angrier than she felt.

“There’s a...civilian? Outside, says she met you in Ash Hill?” Trinity was rubbing her thumb against the edge of a tablet.

“She a big tall doe with little spots under her eyes and a heart in her ear?”

“Yeah, actually.” Trinity handed Tilly the tablet, unlocking it. A security feed of the outdoor entryway was displayed on the screen. Surrounded by three black-clad security bucks, was a familiar spotted doe.

“Yeah, that’s Pixie. What’s she want?”

Trinity shrugged.

She ushered the two does into one of the downstairs meeting rooms, providing them each with a cup of hot tea and setting an ashtray in the center of the table. “Let me know if y’all need anything else,” she said, bowling slightly before stepping out of the room.

“Y’all always this tight down here?” Pixie asked, sipping her tea.

Tilly lit a cigarette. “Nah. We’ve just been dealin’ with some shit and need to make sure anyone who shows up unannounced ain’t here to shoot up the place. Y’know, more than usual.”

“Hm, your partner did mention you’d had some weird shit happening recently,” Pixie said, thoughtfully.

The comment sat oddly in Tilly’s stomach, like a live fish.

“Anyway, I know you’re looking for information on Red, right? Your kit’s father?”

“Not actually my kit,” Tilly corrected.

“Obviously.” Pixie raised an eyebrow. “I’m no geneticist, but I’ve been working with breeders long enough to know how coat colours work, and there ain’t no way you and Red made a silvered kit. I mean, he might have something like steel in his background, but I don’t think with your colourpoint thing and those dilutes going on that it would have shows up like that-”

Tilly squeezed her eyes shut. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pixie.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. The point is, I knew she wasn’t yours.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you she wasn’t mine when we met.”

“Listen, I’ve had a long night.” She took a long draught of her tea, exhaling dramatically as she set the cup back on the table. “My discussion of genetics wasn’t entirely unrelated, though. I did some digging into Red after you and Spookyrah left the other night. Got into his old office at the breeding facility and dug around after hours, y’know. Anyway, the point is, I got some shit you need to see.”

Pixie snapped open a leather planner, scanning her notes. “Our boy was Outer Owsla, as you know. Or don’t, because you passed out. Well,  _ I  _ knew he was Outer ‘cause I worked with him.” She noticed Tilly’s impatient look. “I digress. He had some real interesting stuff in his desk, knick-knacks, sandwich crumbs, photo frames, y’know the normal shit. He was a doe’s buck so he had lots of photos of his favourite prostitutes everywhere, but he had a whole accordion frame just for this one particular girl.”

She reached into the planner and produced a four-by-six snap of a familiar dark-furred doe kit, albeit several years younger. She was sitting shirtless on a floor, holding up a holiday gift with a huge, beaming smile on her face.

Tilly leaned forward to study the photo. “She has all of her toes.”

Pixie was giving her the most alarmed look, so Tilly clarified. “She’s missing some toes, cut clean, newer injuries but fully healed. You can tell she’s not used to them missing though, if you pay attention to how she walks.”

“That’s awful.”

Tilly shrugged. “Hrair kits.”

“Well, grim circumstances aside, look at her fur. That’s the really important part.” Pixie tapped the photo. “See anything missing?”

The photo was a typical attempt to capture a dark-furred creature on film indoors. The flash blew out the foreground, the light reflecting off of the kit’s glossy fur, lighting up the gold flecks brighter than they appeared in person.

“There’s no silver,” Tilly said softly.

Pixie clicked her tongue and pointed a finger at Tilly. “Bingo. There’s two different ways to get silver in a coat - steel, which also comes in gold, like she has here - and silvering, like Maléficent and her gals. Steel is present from birth, but in a silvered rabbit, they’re born solid-coloured and turn silver over time, usually starting around Rosette’s age now. Interestingly enough, she has both.”

“And this is important why?”

“Because I also found this amongst the photos Red had in his office.”

Pixie produced a photo of a doe, taken at a selfie angle despite her not quite looking at the camera, her attention on something to her left. Her fur was a colour Tilly had never seen before - the brightest, palest silver that faded to black around her mouth and ears. The photo had been trimmed, a red-furred arm was clearly visible wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close.

Pixie placed the photo on the table in such a way that the silver doe seemed to be looking at the photo of Rosette, slightly overlapping.

The shape of their face, eyes, ears...Rosette was a dead ringer for this doe, minus twenty or so years.

“That,” Pixie said, tapping her finger to the silver doe’s face. “Is Senator Caroline Blackpaw.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Pixie reached across the table, picking Tilly’s untouched tea and taking a sip. It was lukewarm at best by now, and she made a face before setting it back on the table, not to be touched again.

“Unfortunately the guy was really good at keeping his inbox clean, so I couldn’t get a lot of information, but I can tell you they talked, and she didn’t want a whole lot to do with the kits.”

“I mean, I’m not surprised,” Tilly said. “I can’t imagine a public figure like her would want the media finding out she had a litter with a Hrair officer.”

“This was a bit more than just that, I think.” Pixie produced a few sheets of paper from her planner. “Some of these emails are straight up koo-koo. Like, nonsensical tyrades, crazy talk kinda shit, and it comes outta nowhere. Like one minute she’s talking about a long meeting being boring and going to lunch with the mayor, the next paragraph she’s off her rocker with conspiracy theory shit. Kinda makes me wonder how I feel ‘bout her being in office.”

Tilly scanned the sheets on the table, feeling herself slowly grimace the further down she got. There was enough paranoid babble in this stack to fuel a cult. No wonder Red was the one raising the litter.

Speaking of. “Rosette said she had siblings. Where are they?”

Pixie shrugged. “I never really ever saw any of ‘em when I’d go to the office. Any times he hired me we were at a hotel.”

“The one time I asked her about them she got all weird about it and avoided answering, so I didn’t push. I wonder if Blackpaw offed ‘em.”

“Gosh I hope not.”

Tilly chewed her lip. “I wonder if she’d talk to us.”

“Who?”

“Blackpaw. Ask her what’s up. Maybe she knows why Randy’s out to get her kit.”

“Hm. I’ll see what I can do.”

Tilly leaned forward on her elbows, a crooked smile crossing her face. “So, they teach you how to break and enter in prostitute school? Or is information gathering just your hobby?”

Pixie wagged a finger. “Ah, ah. A good whore doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  
  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


_ “Ya ever think about kits?” Spooky asked, taking in a deep drag of her joint. _

_ “What about ‘em?” _

_ “Y’know, like. Havin’ em.” _

_ “Oh. Not really.” _

_ Spooky exhaled. “Don’t like ‘em? Or are ya one o’ them ‘modern does’ that’s more interested in workin’ a job than raisin’ a family?” _

_ “Nah, I like kits, I just...I’m not real good with ‘em, so I never really thought about havin’ any.” _

_ “Find ya a nice buck an’ pop out a few, you’ll learn real fast.” _

_ Tilly sighed, settling back on her elbows. “Ah, I don’t think that’ll happen.” _

_ “Why, ya only into does or somethin’?” _

_ “No-” _

_ “Or are ya into some other species?” Spooky flipped over onto her side, her face suddenly very serious. “Don’t go fuckin’ around with critters bigger n’ ya are, okay? I don’t need to be gettin’ calls in the middle of the night that some wolf blew yer ass out an’ ya need a ride to the hospital.” _

_ Tilly pushed Spooky back onto the floor, laughing. “No, no, gods no, nothing like that.” _

_ “Then what?” _

_ Tilly closed her eyes. “It’s nothing.” _

_ “Obviously it’s somethin’. C’mon, talk to me. If ya ain’t all the way gay or into dogs or some shit, then what? Yer jibblies don’t work or somethin’?” _

_ “I  _ said _ it was nothing.” _

_ “Aw, c’mo-” _

_ “Spooky, stop.” _

_ Spooky grinned, her eyes glinting in the low light. “Am I gonna hafta beat it outta ya?” _

  
  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


Rosette had been delighted to see Pixie, despite not knowing her very well, her little arms wrapped completely around the tall doe’s leg, smiling so wide you could almost see the kit’s back teeth. Pixie lifted her easily in her arms, rubbing their noses together, Rosette giggling at the sensation of their whiskers touching.

Tilly felt a pang of...something, in her ribcage. Not quite the heart, not quite the gut, either. Somewhere in between. Something like sadness as she watched Pixie so easily navigate the idea of a kit, how naturally it came to her. Is that what it is like to be built for these things? She pushed the bitterness down, down from the space between her bottom ribs and stamping it out mentally.

Rosette begged Pixie to stay for dinner, and when Nildro found out, she made it her mission to blow their guest’s scut off with the food. She dragged Trinity into the kitchen with her, and it turns out that the little gray doe made up for her lack of social graces by being really good at decorating desserts. By the time they were done there was enough food in the dining room to feed the entire warren, but they kept it a secret long enough for Tilly, Rosette, N’rithaa, Pixie, and Tassadar to have a relatively quiet meal before the soldiers found out.

“You’ve uh, never had kits, have you?” Pixie asked afterward, leaning back into one of the overstuffed lawn chairs on the back patio, sucking down half a bottle of beer in one gulp.

“Nah,” Tilly replied. She was sitting in the chair next to Pixie, watching the sun slip behind the trees while nursing a cigarette and a glass of water that tasted more like copper than anything else.

Pixie laughed. “I can tell. You look like a first-time doe every time Rosette’s around, and you talk to her like she’s already legal. It’s kinda cute.” She looked out over the gardens, listening to the chatter of the rest of the warren tearing into dinner through the wall behind her. “She appreciates it, by the way. That you don’t treat her like she’s a baby. Kits that age like to feel like they’re grown up.”

“Glad there’s one thing I’m doin’ halfway right,” Tilly mumbled.

Pixie shifted in her chair. “By the way, if you don’t mind me getting kinda personal - why did you keep her? You couldn’t  _ pay _ most does to keep a single kit; why not take her to a kithouse?”

That uncomfortable feeling pushed its way into Tilly’s ribs again. “Figured she had a doe somewhere and we’d just drop her off the next day. Then all this stupid lockdown shit happened, and now I’m kinda stuck with her, unless Blackpaw wants her back.”

“I’ve got numbers to kithouses, if you want. ‘Course she’ll probably end up on my doorstep once she’s legal, anyway. Most of ‘em do.”

Tilly stared out over the back lawn, where Rosette was completely absorbed in playing with a collection of plastic toys she’d found in a closet somewhere. She appeared to be reenacting the scene from a movie she likely absolutely should not have been watching, if the amount of gunshot and explosion sounds she was making was anything to go by. But she was having fun.

Pixie took another drink, cocking her eyebrow. “You want her. Shoulda known.”

“She’s got a dam. She probably wouldn’t even want to stay with me anyway, she barely knows me.”

“When’s the last time you heard of a buck raising his kits? I bet Blackpaw’d just let you have her if you asked nice enough.”

Tilly mumbled an acknowledgement. “I dunno, I’m not real cut out for kits, y’know? Not good with ‘em. Prolly kill any I end up with.”

Pixie sighed, leaning one elbow against the arm of the chair and dropping her chin into her palm. “Listen, I’m gonna let you in on a secret, doe to doe, yeah? Absolutely none of us know what the fuck we’re doing the first time. And bar a few rare situations, it all works out okay.”

Rosette was now smashing the makeshift buildings she had set up, kicking them over while making monster sounds and high-pitched screams.

Tilly finished her cigarette, stubbing it into the ashtray. “If you say so.”


	7. Chapter Six

Riverside was put on lockdown. The bar was closed for “remodeling” until further notice, and Juliet dipped into her extensive black market contacts and brought on additional security to the nightclubs, much to the concern of the managers. Spooky’s leash was still tight around Tilly’s neck, but the throbbing in her head made her less interested in testing the strength of that rope. She still kept forgetting where the bathroom was, and it was getting really annoying.

At least now she had company in her misery. Raszagal brought two suitcases to the big house - one for herself and N’rithaa, and one for Ten upon his discharge - and moved into the two rooms on either side of Tilly. Trinity had spent the all afternoon with a respirator and a vacuum cleaner, forced to eradicate a decade’s worth of dust bunnies by herself.

“I volunteered,” Raszagal said as Tilly helped her carry the suitcases up the stairs. “N says I shouldn’t be in Riverside during a gang war, not with buns in the oven.”

“Probably a good idea.”

Raszagal sat down on the bed, curling her nose up at the smell of dust around her, despite Trinity’s best efforts. “I heard you had a rough night, you doin’ okay?”

Tilly’s eyes were tired. “I’ll be fine. Would be better if I wasn’t forgettin’ where my own ass was half the time, but there’s not much I can do about it. The drugs are giving me the best nights’ sleep I’ve had in years, so that’s nice.”

Deft hands began unpacking the suitcases, folding each item perfectly before setting them into the chest of drawers near the bed. “If you need better painkillers, let me know. I’ve got a stash.”

“ _ You? _ Painkillers? Damn, I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as a pharmer.”

“I was gonna be a doctor,” she replied, nonchalantly.

Tilly blinked. “Holy shit, really? A doctor? Why on earth did you join the Hrair with a life like that ahead of you?”

“Shit just doesn’t work out the way you want, sometimes. Sometimes you meet a buck so gentlemanly you don’t even believe him when he says he’s in a gang, and suddenly you’re whisked away to a world of intrigue and mystery.” She laughed. “Or at least that’s how it feels when you’re barely legal. Turns out the Hrair pays  _ real _ good for narcotics, and I happened to have a key to the pharmacy and a part-time that didn’t quite pay my rent. I lost my scholarship, but I’d almost graduated anyway. Don’t figure they’d let me work in a real hospital with a tattoo, anyway.”

“Were you plannin’ on keepin’ that a secret forever or what, sis? Spooky would prolly love to have an actual medical professional in the ranks instead of relying on hit-and-miss underground clinics.”

“I didn’t wanna have any kind of commitment to the place if it turns out y’all sucked or something,” Raszagal grinned. “So far it’s been alright. For the record, though, I wasn’t gonna be a general doctor. I was specializing in obstetrics.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised; I’ve heard about all them babies you pop out.”

Raszagal put a hand to her belly, the curve just beginning to show underneath her blouse. “I’m guessing nine, this time.”

“Fuckin’  _ Frith _ , Rasz. I had to kitsit a singleton for  _ one day  _ and barely came out alive.”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of the black doe’s mouth. “N’rithaa helps. She feeds the ones I can’t. Our first litters I didn’t get milk for three days and she fed all eleven by herself.” Her voice was wispy, dreamlike. “She’s a superhero.”

The look on Raszagal’s face made Tilly’s chest tighten like a kit reading a romance novel.  _ Rusathil _ weren’t common - most rabbits were satisfied just with having a collection of individuals they bred with, rather than a committed relationship. Raszagal and N’rithaa were the first bonded pair that Tilly had ever met much less spent time around. And there was something about their relationship that made Tilly wistful. She’d never even pursued any kind of partner, romantic or otherwise. The older she got the more painfully obvious it’d become that navigating those roads was going to be more difficult than she wanted to deal with. And she’d been okay with it, but sometimes…

“Promise me you’ll get him good,” Raszagal said softly, snapping Tilly from her thoughts. “That buck.”

Tilly couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. “If she doesn’t get to him first.”

  
  
  
  
  


“They fuckin’ told me I can’t go back,” N’rithaa growled, arms crossed, glaring out at the beautiful sunny day outside. “They can kiss my furry brown ass. Ain’t no way I’m stayin’ up here in a fancy hotel while the country bumpkin military goes an’ fucks ‘round my streets.”

“I know the feeling,” Tilly scowled. “The rest of the warren like to never goes to Riverside, and now we’re not even allowed to protect our own goddamn territory.”

N’rithaa scratched at a spot on her chest, wincing. The dried blood and shaved fur made it look worse than it was, but it was still sore and itching like crazy.

She sighed. “Ain’t like you the Rah, though, so I guess we just gotta do what they tell us.”

“Spooky knows what she’s doing.”

“Hope you’re right.”

The next time Tilly saw N’rithaa, later that evening, Juliet was tightening the straps of a kevlar vest around the thick bandages wrapping the brown doe’s torso and growling at every military rabbit that tried to tell her they weren’t allowed to leave. When the lop caught sight of Tilly, her expression soured, and her mouth formed sneering words that Tilly couldn’t quite make out.

N’rithaa clocked her so hard the sound of Juliet’s teeth snapping together ricocheted off of the parlour’s cathedral ceilings at least twice.

  
  
  
  
  
  


By the time a rabbit kit is about six years old, they are technically old enough to fend for themselves. This is the age when a doe would loosen up on the parenting, leaving the kits at home for a full workday, and often even longer. Kits are expected to know how to feed, entertain, and perform minor first aid on themselves by this age. In ancient days, when rabbits still lived largely in familial communities instead of scattering to the winds at adulthood, kits would acquire their own home in the village and begin their own jobs by eleven or twelve. By sixteen, does were typically bearing their first litters.

It’d been thousands of years since the definition of “warren” changed from these civilian roots to those synonymous with organized crime, but a six-year-old kit still retains that sense of independence, eager to prove themselves to their does that they can, really, be left home alone while she does her day’s work.

So Rosette did  _ not  _ appreciate having someone follow her around all day.

She was polite - Red did a good job teaching his kit manners if nothing else - but there was a tightness in the corner of her mouth and a pinch in her chubby little kit ears by dinner time.

“My warren could be about to get into a fight with another gang, and we gotta make sure you don’t get kitnapped,” was the explanation Tilly gave when Rosette finally broke down and asked why she couldn’t have a moment to herself.

“I can handle myself,” Rosette huffed, pulling on her ears.

“I know you can, but I don’t think even El-Ahrairah could outrun a bullet.”

Rosette pushed her lips together, nose flaring as she processed what that meant. Fists and knives and baseball bats were one thing to contend with in the streets, but any rabbit with fast enough legs could escape those threats. Firearms were a whole other animal, and Tilly knew the motherfucker had at least one, and she also knew exactly what caliber it fired.

Tilly ruffled the kit’s headfur with one hand, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

“Make sure you wear a vest,” Rosette said.

Tilly sighed. “Well, you don’t have to worry, ‘cause it doesn’t look like they’re gonna let me go.”

“‘Cause your headaches?” Rosette’s hand reached up, pushing her fingers through Tilly’s velveteen fur. She seemed slightly surprised at the texture, and Tilly realized that the kit had never really touched her before.

“Yeah. Randy banged me up pretty bad and it’s prolly best I stay here and let the rabbits that don’t have concussions handle whatever happens out there.”

Rosette’s breath was sucked out of her lungs, her eyes blowing wide.

Slowly her hand moved away from Tilly’s face, “Does he have a tattoo like this?” she asked, as the tips of her shaking fingers curled inward towards her palm.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The sensation that crawled up Tilly’s backbone and settled at the nape of her neck was unsettlingly like having the fur rubbed the wrong direction. A creeping, prickling feeling that wouldn’t go away, even as she furiously rubbed the spot, digging the nails in.

Rosette didn’t tell her anything else. She got that same distant, haunted look on her face as when Tilly had asked her about her foot, and Tilly couldn’t bring herself to push her any more. She’d seen that look before, in the eyes of bucks with scars on their faces and tales of wars that ended before Tilly even existed.

It wasn’t a good look on a kit.

Rosette refused to be alone now, latching onto Tilly like a furry, scared parasite for the rest of the afternoon. The only time they were apart was when the kit finally laid down for a nap, and Tilly was able to lay her on Raszagal’s bed and finally eat something in peace before trying to find her goddamn Rah and nicking Pixie’s number from her phone.

Almost as quickly as the old house had been filled with rabbits, it’d emptied out again that morning. The military had come in, rounded up anyone able-bodied, handed them a vest and a weapon, and shoved them all out of the doors and into black SUVs pointed in the direction of Crixa’s borders. They were left with only a few rabbits to keep watch over the injured and be-kitted remaining, which would have concerned Tilly if not for the size of the guns slung over their shoulders.

“This is a lotta response for a few beat up  _ silfessil _ and a kit,” Trinity mused, elbows deep in dishwater. “You’d think they were worth a million four-leafs or somethin’.”

Tilly scowled around her dinner. “You’d rather us let a street gang bully us around? What kind of message do you think that’d send to the other warrens?”

“I mean, yeah? Kinda? It’s not like she’s your kit, y’know? If it’ll get this Randy guy off our scuts, why not let him have her?”

“If you got a problem with the way I run my warren, yer free to come an’ talk to me about it in my office, y’know,” Spooky growled, stepping into the room on nearly silent feet. On immediate assessment, Tilly concluded that she looked exhausted, shirt unbuttoned to show the line of her ribs beginning to show through her fur, the heavy smell of cigarette smoke following on her heels. The fur around her nose looked rubbed and clumped.

Trinity, who didn’t hear her coming, jumped so violently that she spilled water down the front of her apron, her feet hitting the floor with a sound not unlike a warning thump.

“N-not really a complaint, ma’am, just voicing some thoughts is all,” the gray-furred doe stammered.

Spooky backhanded her in the back of her head, knocking Trinity nearly into the sink entirely. “Keep yer fuckin’ thoughts to yerself next time. If I hear ya talkin’ treasonous shit again yer gonna be givin’ me a lot more n’ yer fingertips.” She leaned in to Trinity’s ear, grinding her teeth. “Now shut up an’ get back to doin’ the goddamn dishes.”

Trinity squeezed her eyes shut and nodded silently, thrusting her hands beneath the water once more.

“Fuckin’ hell. Some rabbits’ kits,” Spooky grumbled as she exited the kitchen, scratching at her upper arm through her sleeves. “Ain’t got time to be dealin’ with this bullshit.”

Tilly finished off her sandwich, washing it down with the last of the off-brand soda she’d scrounged up from the back of the pantry. “Finally decided to come down from your throne and grace us commoners with your glorious presence, I see.”

Spooky shot her a dangerous look. “Don’t you start, too.”

Tilly ignored her. “Where ya been? I’ve been lookin’ for you all afternoon.”

“I been dealin’ with the military deployment an’ all that good shit regardin’ yer lil friend ya went an’ pissed off last night.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of which, we need to talk about that. The kit knows who he is, and when I tried to ask her more about it she clammed up like she was havin’ a flashback.”

“Fuck,” Spooky hissed. “We need to figger out what to do with ‘er ASAP.”

“Did Pixie talk to you?”

“No, why?”

“She found the dam.”

Spooky opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by Rosette darting into the dining room and flinging herself into Tilly’s lap.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the parlour, and Raszagal shuffled into the room a few moments later, breathing heavily. “She wanted you,” she managed to get out between breaths. Her eyes snapped to Spooky. “Sorry if she interrupted anything.”

There was an unreadable expression on Spooky’s face, her eyes locked onto the kit in Tilly’s arms. “Naw. Y’ain’t interruptin’ nothin’.”

  
  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


_ “That’s it?” _

_ Tilly had stopped fighting back, sinking into the carpet. Spooky was holding her wrists above her head, long, lean legs wrapped around Tilly’s thighs, holding her still. She could buck her off if she wanted, but it was no use now. She’d already lost. _

_ One hand released Tilly’s wrist, fingers moving to trace over the ink in her ear. “That why ya have this leaf that’s changin’ colours?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “So the tattooist knows.” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “But not me.” _

_ Tilly closed her eyes and breathed out heavily. Her stomach felt full of snakes, writhing inside of her and forcing their way into her chest, curling around her heart. She felt the weight on her legs shift as Spooky reached for another drag. _

_ “You ain’t even gonna ask about it? How it works? What it looks like?” _

_ Spooky shrugged. “Ya don’t wanna tell me, I don’t need to know.” _

_ “You sure acted like you needed to know a minute ago.” _

_ “Keepin’ secrets from me is one thing,” she said, poking Tilly in the nose. “Personal body stuff is another. I ain’t gotta know all about what’s goin’ on down there.” _

_ “This whole conversation is personal body stuff, Spooky.” _

_ “Well...I didn’t know.” _

_ “No shit. If someone wants to keep somethin’ a secret, you should fuckin’ respect it next time.” _

_ Spooky quailed slightly, turning her eyes away from Tilly and towards the wall, ears dropping back behind her head. “I just wish you’dve trusted me enough to tell me. What’s more special ‘bout Clyde than yer  _ actual  _ friend?” _

_ Tilly sat up, her fingers ghosting along Spooky’s arm, feeling the places where the fur was still growing back. “We are, and I do. It’s just...even if you think you know somebody, they don’t always react how you wish they would when you tell ‘em this kinda stuff.” _

_ Her fingers lingered for a moment on Spooky’s wrist. “I ain’t never had to see Clyde again, but I see you every damn day.” _

  
  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


The sunset was growing later and later each night, lingering just above the hills of Narn-Hain for just a few more minutes to gaze upon the moon on the other side of the sky like a pining lover. A breeze blew cold north wind across the lawn, and the winter insects buzzed in the trees, harmonizing with the evening birds announcing their retirement to the topmost branches and telephone poles.

Tilly sat on one of the huge rocks lining the koi pond out in the back gardens, a place that she had apparently made it her routine to visit the past few days to have one last smoke before gathering up her kit and locking herself inside that upstairs room.

Rosette was knee-deep in the pond, attempting vainly to catch the glittering gold and silver fish that darted around her feet, not seeming to feel the cold water soaking her fur. She lamented loudly the slime coating one hand from the fish that got away.

“If you can catch one, I’ll take you out for ice cream tomorrow,” Tilly called out over the water.

Rosette responded by diving beneath the surface, ensuring that Trinity would be receiving additional karma in the form of an extra load of laundry.

Spooky flopped down onto the rock next to Tilly, folding her legs underneath her. She dropped her head back between her shoulders for a moment, releasing a sigh from deep within her soul. She rubbed her nose with one hand and fished her cigarettes out of her pocket with another, tapping the pack against her knee and setting one between her teeth.

“Before ya ask,” she said, struggling to get the lighter to catch. “I ain’t got time to sleep.”

“I wasn’t gonna.”

She got it to light on the fourth try. The inhale she took was long and deep, the exhale not unlike a death sigh.

“So, Pixie found the dam.”

Tilly leaned her head back. “Caroline Blackpaw.”

“Yer _ joking _ .”

“She’s got photos. The kit’s her spitting image, and they both have the same crazy fur gene that makes ‘em turn silver. Also a good week’s worth of emails mentioning her name in between raving like them guys on the midnight radio that are real into aliens.”

“Sounds charmin’. Sure glad I ain’t voted for ‘er.”

Tilly was quiet for a moment, staring out over the water. “You ever met a doe that killed a litter?”

Spooky blinked. “What? Nah. Like, ya hear ‘bout it sometimes but I ain’t never met no one that did it. Why, ya think Blackpaw’s why she ain’t got any toes?”

“Pretty sure it ain’t ‘cause a six-year-old did anything bad enough to warrant _ zehlzyl [[13](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/57912016#note13)] _ . There’s gotta be a reason why a buck was raising a kit by himself.”

“Blackpaw bein’ crazier n’ a hare in leaf season would be reason enough for me. Maybe he had the kits to keep ‘em safe from mama.”

Tilly dropped her head into her heads. “I don’t have the brain capacity to think about this shit right now,” she moaned. “There’s too many pieces to fit together and I fuckin’ hate puzzles.”

“Ya needta just focus on keepin’ her happy,” Spooky said. “I’ll worry ‘bout keepin’ Randy’s hands off her.”

“We have no idea how many rabbits he’s got, if he’s even only got rabbits. We could be about to square off against the entirety of the downtown underworld for all we know.”

Spooky snorted. “Doesn’t matter. That kit belongs to Crixa for right now, an’ even a stupid buck like him’s gotta know what happens when ya get between a doe an’ her kits.”

“Is she why you have me staying here?”

Tilly felt the air around Spooky change, like a thunderstorm rolling over the mountains. Spooky’s entire posture stiffened, her jaw tensed. So it  _ was _ something. Juliet was right.

Spooky was silent for a long moment, staring into the depths of the koi pond, eyes not even registering the glimmer of scales beneath the surface. Her jaw tightened and released, struggling with her thoughts, laying out the words before she allowed them to be heard. Tilly felt her heart pounding in her ears. Spooky never gave this much thought to anything she ever said unless it was of dire importance.

Her voice was low when she finally spoke. “They sprung this whole Rah shit on me, y’know? I didn’t even have time to fully like...get used to the _ idea _ of it before I had the goddamn crown in my ear an’ a warren fulla prejudice-ass rabbits waitin’ for me to fuck up so they could impeach me an’ elect one o’ their own. An’ _ then _ I find out they shipped my only friend halfway ‘cross the goddamn world an’ ya didn’t even tell me ya were leavin’ before ya were fuckin’  _ gone _ , jus’ like that. I’m sure ya was real busy, though, since I ain’t hear from ya for six goddamn months…”

Tilly looked away.

Spooky took another deep drag on her cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily out of her nose and mouth. “But then I get a call in the middle of the night that two of my rabbits are dead an’ suddenly all I can think is ‘please don’t let one of ‘em be her’.”

She looked up at Tilly. “I didn’t realize how fuckin’ awful the idea of losin’ ya again was ‘til I thought I did.”

  
  
  


-|-

  
  
  
  


_ The stars blinked uncaringly in the sky above the shipyard, a not-quite-full moon casting pale shadows over the two rabbits sitting on the ground, nursing bloody noses and sore fists. _

_ Spooky reached into her blazer and retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Tilly stole one without asking, but Spooky neither said anything nor minded. They leaned their heads in together, lighting both cigarettes with one flame. This close to her, Tilly could smell something sour on Spooky’s breath, and she noticed the way her hands shook as she held the lighter. _

_ “You should sleep,” Tilly said casually, leaning back on her elbows. “You got a big day tomorrow.” _

_ Spooky rubbed her nose, sniffing. “It’s just easier to stay awake.” _

_ “You’re gonna get paranoid if you keep that up.” _

_ “I’m already paranoid.” _

_ “Just promise you’ll try, at least. Go smoke a fuckton of weed or somethin’, knock yourself out.” _

_ “That’d only make me normal again.” Spooky was grinning now, genuinely. “Then I really would be a sight durin’ the ceremony.” _

_ “They’d prolly all be like ‘what did you do with Spooky?’ and put you in a headlock and make you recite warren history or some shit to prove you’re you.” _

_ “Let’s be real, I’d prolly just deck ‘em,” Spooky chuckled. “Then I’d get famous for bein’ the first Rah to get their ears cut at their own inauguration.” _

_ Tilly’s voice softened. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Chloe wouldn’t’ve done it if she didn’t think you wouldn’t be good at it. Everyone who's worked with you knows you’re a badass, and you’re big enough to beat all them old shitty lop bucks into shape.” She waved her hand around, watching the smoke curl through the air. “You’ve got all the right pieces - you’ve got respect, you’ve got years served, you’re strong, you’re smart, you’re pretty, you’re - what?” _

_ Spooky was giving her an odd, lopsided kind of smile, head tilted to one side. The yellowed street light above them was flickering to life, the freshly-installed gold rings in Spooky’s ears glittering in the light. Harsh shadows highlighted her features, somehow both sharp and round at the same time. All lean muscle and sinew under short, velveteen fur. _

_ Tilly looked away, down at the smoldering cigarette in her hand, pushing down the tightness in her throat. She flicked the ash from the tip, and brought it to her lips again. “You’ll be fine.” _

_ The air was thick now, sticking in Tilly’s lungs a heavy silence settled between them, scratching at the ground little before getting comfortable in its spot. About the time the silence decided to light its own cigarette and finish it off with them, Spooky spoke again. _

_ “So what’re ya doin’ all the way out here, anyway?” _

_ She’d like to say she had a reason, but in reality Tilly had blindsided that cat in the alley simply to blow off steam. It was shameful - she’d put down enough  _ silfessil _ for trying the same shit on her - but with the inauguration less than twenty-four hours away, well. She needed something to distract her, just for a little while. _

_ Tilly scowled. “I just needed some air.” _

_ “Yeah, an’ I’m the next prime minister.” _

_ Somewhere in the distance a cricket buzzed. _

_ Spooky had started to open her mouth, but Tilly cut her off. She stood up, dusting off the front of her pants and tossing the butt of her cigarette to the ground to smoulder out. _

_ “I’m tired of sittin’ around listening to the crickets. You wanna go barhopping or something?” _

_ “Ah...I can’t...gotta get goin’ early tomorrow. Figure I should be punctual for this, if nothin’ else. I can slack off after I’m boss.” _

_ Tilly kicked her feet at some loose gravel, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Suit yourself. Still say you should try and get some sleep.” _

_ “I’ll try if you will.” _

_ The next time they saw one another, it was across the ceremony room in headquarters, Tilly in a black suit and Spooky on the podium with the blade of a knife pressed into her hand. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13Literally, “end-claw.” The ritualistic removal of the claw digit of a rabbit’s finger as an apology for an infraction. Akin to yubitsume.  
>  [ return to text ]


	8. Chapter Seven

Tilly had never been big into romcoms. There was always a level of disconnect between herself and the characters in the stories - the whirlwind romances, the ability for two creatures to look at one another and know exactly what they were getting themselves into. Rabbits like her didn’t get to have someone want to take her home, much less fall in love with them. There were just too many awkward conversations that nobody wanted to deal with, and that wasn’t counting the one about how much experience they each had in the bedroom.

Despite that, some part of her had always imagined that when someone finally confessed romantic feelings to her, that it would be like the movies. She’d overheard enough tittering does in the break rooms to have some expectations - that heart-pounding moment when the admission of love is given in a beautiful, poetic way, then they’d kiss under the stars or the sunset or at the water’s edge, and, if she was lucky, whisked upstairs to a night of unbridled passion. 

She’d always tried to pay attention, just in case. She wouldn’t want a confession flying into one elaborately tattooed ear and right out of the other, now would she.

“You know I’m an adult and I can handle my shit, right? Like I appreciate the sentiment, but I prolly could have-”

Spooky had a look on her face like Tilly had just punched her in the ribs.

“Are you...okay?”

“For fuck’s sake Tilly. I’m tryna be fuckin’ romantic an’ yer ruinin’ it.”

Tilly choked. There was a buzzing sound singing harmony with the throbbing in her head and it suddenly felt like she was floating a full inch above her body.

“What?”

Spooky sighed. “I wanted ya to stay here ‘cause I didn’t want ya to fuckin’  _ die _ . An’ I didn’t want ya to fuckin’ die, ‘cause I realized l like ya.”

The buzzing grew louder.

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, yeah me too.”

“ _ Like _ , like ya. As in, like,  _ rusamithil _ or whatever it is.  Heart-sisters.”

“Oh.”

That was definitely a look Spooky was giving her.

An incredibly awkward silence hung in the air like a sword suspended on spider’s thread, threatening to fall and split Tilly in half. And to be perfectly honest, she wouldn’t have minded in that moment. Every second she didn’t know what to say or do was driving the nail in the coffin of this situation that much deeper.

Spooky was laughing at her. “That all ya gonna do? Jus’ stare at me?”

_ I should really say something to her _ , said Tilly’s brain, but Tilly’s body was still in the middle of shutting down entirely. She was vaguely aware of her mouth making some noises, at which Spooky continued to laugh.

“Yeah, yer still cute,” said Spooky from a thousand miles away.

Spooky reached out with one scarred hand, just barely brushing Tilly’s curled and kinked whiskers, pressing into the fur on her cheek, and Tilly thought she would actually die right there on the spot.

A high-pitched voice broke through the buzzing in Tilly’s head. “Are you gonna  _ kiss _ ?”

Spooky turned just in time to catch a beautiful tri-colour koi to the face, escaped only seconds before from the hands of an incredibly scandalized Rosette standing waist-deep in the pond.

The walk back into the big house was awkward, Tilly and Spooky walking not quite close as they usually do, Rosette skipping ahead of them, dripping all along the stone pathways. Tilly’s head was pounding, exacerbated by her heart threatening to fly out of her chest, and not in a good way. She had too much to think about, too much happening, and not enough capacity to process it all.

“Ya don’t hafta give me an answer now, y’know,” Spooky said, rubbing water and slime off of her face with a dishrag unearthed from the depths of the huge industrial clothes dryer. “Shit, I was hopin’ to have that conversation by candlelight or somethin’ anyway.”

“Yeah your timing leaves some things to be desired,” Tilly mumbled.

“Look, yer the one that asked.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t expect you to do _ that! _ ” Tilly groaned, tugging on her ears. “My headache came back with a vengeance.”

Spooky lay a hand on the top of Tilly’s head, gently. “Go eat somethin’, take yer meds. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly tried to sleep, she really did. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, Rosette curled up next to her, snoring softly. She’d tried her best to drug herself into submission, but not even the good shit from Raszagal’s stash was enough to completely cut the merry-go-round of suffering in her brain.

Ultimately, she decided, she just wanted to go home. To lay down in her own bed, with her own shitty fan and its familiar white noise, with a head that didn’t ache and the neighbours that occasionally banged on the walls at odd hours, the city that never slept. Back to what she knew was comfortable, to her bar, her nightclubs, the casinos, the endless underground always open and available on the insomniac nights that seemed to never end.

Being here reminded her of everything she hated about Narn-Hain. It was too quiet, too still. The nights just dragged here, and Tilly alone with her thoughts never ended well.

She may have drifted off, or maybe the medication just made her zone out so hard she couldn’t remember the last five hours of absolutely fucking nothing that she’d just lived through. All she knew was at some point she realized that the sun was rising and she was absolutely not looking forward to seeing Spooky again.

Not that she wasn’t flattered, or that the confession wasn’t even reciprocated. But rabbits like her simply do not have the luxury of having others see them in that way. There were just too many conversations that nobody wanted to have, and it was easier to occupy herself with work and extracurricular activities than worry about feelings for one's former best friend, especially when said friend doubled as your fucking Rah.

Rosette had wiggled her way across the bed and was now pressed against Tilly, her face in the crook of Tilly’s neck. Half of her was on top of one of Tilly’s arms, and Tilly was suddenly aware that she couldn’t feel the entire limb and half of her shoulder.

Yet another thing to run in endless mental circles about.

The act of extricating herself from underneath Rosette was surprisingly difficult, her arm too numb to know where it was in space, but she managed to get it done without waking the kit. Getting dressed while one arm was reigniting its nerves was excruciating.

The birds were starting their choruses when she finally wandered out of the room in search of something, anything to occupy herself with that wasn’t  _ thinking _ . She creeped through the upstairs hallway, craning her neck around the door to see if the light was on in Spooky’s office. It wasn’t, and Tilly found herself hoping that meant that Spooky had finally gotten some sleep.

She shoved a piece of cake left over from a couple nights ago in her mouth and was on her way to make herself a cup of coffee with Trinity’s fancy press pot and enjoy it on the back porch while watching the sunrise when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

She darted through a doorway into the servant’s hallway, ears turned in the direction of the foyer, listening to the sound of jingling keys and two sets of footsteps echoing through the vaulted ceiling.

Nildro’s quick, staccato voice drifted through the hallways. “Coffee inna kitchen, help yourself. Ain’t nobody here right now.”

“Thank you,” said a voice Tilly didn’t recognize, moving in her direction.

The doe that stepped into the kitchen moments later was young, but carried herself with all the regality of someone worthy of the crown in her ear, just atop the outstretched wings of a bright red cardinal bird holding a bracken fern in its beak. Her fur was black, her nose, mouth, and ears outlined in tan, with white markings on her chest and hands, speckled in black. The pin set in her jacket lapel featured a twist of thorns around what Tilly guessed was a setting sun.

She looked around the kitchen, presumably for a normal coffee maker, finding only the press pot, still sitting on the counter where Tilly had left it in a hurry. Behind her, Nildro shuffled into the kitchen, dusting her hands off on her incredibly frock-like skirt, like a mountain milk-maid.

“Oh,  _ Frith ven tuhl [[14](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23470438/chapters/58204492#note14)] _ , Trinity ain’t clean the…” she trailed off. “I got it, lemme just use her weird doo-dad thing. Make ‘er wash it later.”

The sounds of someone making coffee with the press pot floated through the doorway, along with a fresh wave of the scent of a dark hazelnut roast. 

Tilly punched Spooky’s number into her phone.  _ You have a meeting today? Nildro’s got a black and tan Rah doe in the kitchen. _

The reply took a moment.  _ nope. _

“Nice place you have,” said the unfamiliar voice. “Very classy.”

“Yeah, used ta be some rich carny house. Dunno how we end up with it, but.” Tilly assumed that Nildro shrugged in lieu of ending the sentence. “Only rabbits stayin’ here right now issa coupla does from Riverside since allis shit done gone down, but dey both sleep late so you fine. Da only one you gotta worry ‘bout on drugs, so you could prolly jus’ walk in an’ she never know you was there.” Nildro laughed.

It wasn’t long before Spooky materialized from the gloom, sliding next to Tilly from some hidden passageway that likely only the Rah knew of, silent as a cat.

“That ain’t sound suspicious at all,” she mumbled. “C’mon.”

Casually, as though they were simply taking the back way downstairs to get their morning coffee, Tilly and Spooky walked into the kitchen. Tilly pretended to yawn and it turned into a real one, stretching her jaw to the point that it popped.

“Mornin’ ladies,” Spooky said, dipping her head to the newcomer, then fixing her eyes onto Nildro. “Didn’t know ya was havin’ company, Nils. Kinda early, ain’t it?”

Nildro looked like a deer caught in headlights, but it didn’t stop her from raising an eyebrow at the implication of Tilly’s presence at Spooky’s elbow. “Yeah, she was jus’ stoppin’ by before she went to work,” she mumbled.

Spooky looked the black and tan doe over, studying the tattoo in her ear. The lines on the cardinal were showing signs of age, but the crown was fresh. “An’ what might that job be?”

The doe bowed. “Ennarah of Tamina warren,” she said. “And you must be Spookyrah.” She was smiling when she raised her head. “Actually, I heard we may have some things to discuss, if you’ve got time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 Literally, “Frith in a hole.” An exasperated phrase, a bit like “for fuck’s sake”, just not as expletive.  
>  [ return to text ]


	9. Chapter Eight

For what felt like the billionth time that week, Tilly found herself sitting on Spooky’s meeting couch. At least this time the office was clean, all evidence of plucked fur swept away, the ashtrays dumped and polished, the empty cans of caffeine and alcohol removed from the surface of Spooky’s desk. She must have actually gotten some sleep last night. That or she’d gone on a binge and had no other outlet for the nervous energy.

“So my girl tells me that you have Red’s kit, yes?” Enna began, starting the round of cigarettes being lit.

“If you mean Rosette, then yes,” Tilly confirmed, leaning over the coffee table to do her civic duty.

Spooky lit her own cigarette. “For the record, we ain’t tryna kitnap her or nothin’. We didn’t know whose warren she belonged to ‘til a couple days ago, an’...well. Some shit’s been goin’ on.”

“Yeah I’ve been filled in on some of what’s happened, how you got her and all that. I couldn’t tell you why Red brought the kit to you and not someone in his own warren, but that’s neither here nor there, I guess.”

“Did you know who her dam was?” Tilly asked.

Enna laughed. “Red played the field, as they say, so when he suddenly starts talkin’ about how now he’s got custody of a kit there was no telling who the dam was. And when she was little like that she didn’t look any different from any other steeled up baby. I had my suspicions that it was Blackpaw, but to be honest, me and Red weren’t close - he was Ginger’s Owsla, not mine, if that makes sense. I knew he had a kit, but I didn’t really know why or who the dam was.”

She sat back in the cushion. “He wasn’t really the type to be taking care of babies, though, so it was kinda odd that he had her, but like, nobody really thought anything of it. He kept saying he wasn’t gonna have her that long anyway, but like, whatever, his life. As long as he comes to work I don’t really care.

“Anyway, I bring it up to Ginger and she’s just like ‘Oh, yeah, he’s got the kit because the rest of the litter got fucking  _ slaughtered _ as part of a blackmail operation on the parliament last year, and Blackpaw didn’t handle it well so she told him to take the last one alive and cut all ties to him.’” Enna held her hands out in an expression of shock. “Thanks for telling me, I guess, especially nearly a  _ week _ after the guy goes and disappears.”

Spooky sniffed. “What kinda blackmail operation?”

“I dunno, probably some pressure to make sure she didn’t pass any law that would make it hard for us to do our jobs, that kinda shit.” Enna shrugged.

“Y’all make it a habit of torturin’ kits up there in Ash Hill?”

“Look, I had nothing to do with it, this was way before I was Rah. It was probably outsourced anyway.”

Tilly’s ears pricked. “Outsourced?”

“Yeah, y’know. We’re not a real big warren so sometimes we’ll hit up the local street gangs for help with security or whatever.”

“Y’ever did work with a big colourpointed buck with red eyes named Randy?”

Enna shrugged. “I usually let Red deal with the outsourcers, and there’s tons of colourpoint bucks in the province.”

“He has a prison tattoo, G1H- somethin’ or other. Left ear tattoo of some circles and lines, kinda like-” Tilly curled her fingertips in towards her palm. “This, in the inside of his ear.”

“I dunno, maybe, why?”

“He’s lookin’ for Rosette; nearly took out a handful of  _ us _ to get at her, too. She seems to know him, but every time I try to ask her about it, she locks up.”

Enna raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Well, I guess I could ask Ginger about it.”

Spooky been sitting quietly, and surprisingly still, a respectful distance away from Tilly on the couch. Her eyes had never left the doe sitting across from them, studying her, watching the way she moved, what she said. Finally, she spoke. “So, y’all want the kit back? ‘Cause I would love to not hafta deal with some chucklefuck pickin’ off my rabbits no more.”

Enna laughed. “Oh gods no, nobody in my warren wants a lone kit, we don’t have time for that. Get with Pixie and she’ll hook you up with a kithouse. Or sell her to slaughter, I don’t care. I’m sure Blackpaw will be glad to hear she’s finally got ‘em out of her fur.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I ain’t trust that doe any further’n I could toss ‘er,” Spooky growled, once Enna had left, the office doors shut behind her. “Somethin’ off ‘bout ‘er. Ain’t nothin’ she said make sense to me.” She was back on her feet, pacing, rubbing her nose. “Somethin’ smells ‘bout this whole Blackpaw thing, but I can’t put my finger on it. She’s lyin’ ‘bout somethin’, I can feel it in my teeth.”

Tilly looked up at her from the couch, watching her pace ruts into the carpet. She might have cleaned the office but Tilly knew underneath the sleeves of her shirt she’d probably plucked herself raw and scabbed, she’d had so many nosebleeds the fur on her mouth was broken and rubbed, and there was mania in her eyes that was far removed from the fa ç ade she wore in front of others.

“I didn’t like her either, but I mean, what she said made sense. You sure it’s not just you bein’ paranoid?”

Spooky wilted, slumping down on the couch across from Tilly. “I dunno. Prolly. I’ve been tryin’ to sleep but it’s just...y’know.” She scratched at her cheeks. “I got maybe an hour last night an’ that’s the best I’ve got all week.”

“I ain’t slept either,” Tilly sighed. “If it makes you feel better.”

Spooky gave her a weak smile. “Kinda, yeah.”

She leaned back in the couch, running her long, sharp nails through her fur repeatedly, raking lines across her face. “I’m so fuckin’ tired. I jus’ want this shit to be over with so I can go back to jus’ bein’ shit at runnin’ a warren an’ not havin’ to pretend I understand war tactics.”

“At least  _ you _ get to go home and lay down in your own bed to have insomnia.”

Spooky made a noise that sounded more appropriate coming from a canine’s mouth, dropping her head to the back of the couch. “I’m sorry, Tils.”

“You were just trying to help, I get it.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t done nothin’ but piss ya off an’ get all yer posse fulla dogshot. I told ya I ain’t cut out for bein’ Rah.”

“Chloe’d knock you on your ass for sayin’ that shit, you know right?”

“Gods I  _ wish _ someone would come at me,” Spooky groaned. “Punch my fuckin’ head back on straight.”

Tilly groaned. “It’s not as fun as you remember, trust me.”

“Maybe we’re just gettin’ old.”

Downstairs, the sound of the warren waking up echoed through the ancient house. Doors opening and closing on groaning hinges, muffled voices discussing the day’s work, the ring of the front desk phone as someone called to confirm a schedule. The uneven sound of only one foot’s worth of kit’s claws on the downstairs flooring, and Raszagal’s heavy steps behind them.

The air conditioning rattled to life, drowning out all other sound, leaving the two does sitting in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Tilly staring at the hollowness of Spooky’s rib cage underneath her shirt, Spooky staring at the ceiling, probably wishing she was anywhere but here.

“This feels like when we were  _ silfessil _ and we used to hide in the storage rooms during events when we were supposed to be working,” Tilly mused. “Nobody ever missed us.”

“I still do that, sometimes,” Spooky said, almost too quietly to hear. “Not quite the same when yer by yerself though.”

The knot that had been sitting in Tilly’s gut all night tightened. “Spooky, about last night-”

“Forget it. Prolly just the coke talkin’ anyway.”

“I owe you an answer.”

“No ya don’t, not unless ya really wanna.”

Tilly closed her eyes, taking a breath. “You remember the night I told you about...me? And all my...” She waved a hand around her general area. “Stuff.”

Spooky made a face at the ceiling. “More like I forced ya into outin’ yerself, but yeah.”

“Remember how I told you that I was scared to say anything to you ‘cause I was convinced you were gonna be grossed out?

“Yeah?”

“I always told myself I wasn’t interested in sex or kits or anything ‘cause I just didn’t have time, I didn’t need it, whatever, but it really was just ‘cause I don’t wanna have to sit anyone down and tell ‘em they got duped ‘cause I wasn’t born a doe. You were the only rabbit that didn’t look at me like I was something to be worried about, but I didn’t have the courage to say anything, and then suddenly you were Rah and I was still just a mid-tier manager.” Tilly exhaled. “I gave up trying to find someone  _ like _ you, because  _ actually _ you didn’t feel like an option anymore.”

Spooky sat up, an expression on her face that Tilly had never seen, something emotional but not quite affection, not quite fear. A tightness to her jaw and a narrowness of her eyes that made Tilly think she might cry, except that Spooky never cried. Tilly felt like she needed to do something, to reach out and close the distance between them, but nothing seemed to be the right thing to do. She watched Spooky’s teeth grind before her long arm reached out and grabbed at Tilly’s collar, pulling her over the coffee table to meet in the middle.

Spooky’s body was so incredibly warm, her arms strong as she pressed Tilly into her as best she could given the angle, the edge of the coffee table digging into their thighs. She was enveloped by soft dewlap fur, Spooky’s chin resting atop her head, her arms wrapped around Tilly’s neck. She held her there with shaking arms, breath short and shallow, the sound of her heartbeat thrumming in Tilly’s ears, pulse beating against her brow.

“You were right though,” Tilly breathed into Spooky’s fur. “Turns out I think I am really only into does.”

She felt more than heard Spooky laugh. “I fuckin’ knew it.”

  
  
  
  
  


The feeling of floating that Tilly read about never came, her feet still firmly planted on the carpets as she wove her way through the hallways, the feeling of Spooky holding her close and chinning her still sticking to her fur. She never liked romance novels anyway, and now that she’d decided that they were complete and absolute bullshit, she definitely wasn’t going back to that section of the library any time soon. She wanted to feel happy, but instead she just felt a bit sick.

She was downstairs in the laundry room trying to figure out how the giant washing machine functioned when Rosette poked her head into the door, a pensive look on her face.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Rooroo?” Tilly asked, looking over her shoulder.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, shifting her weight off of her bad foot, fingers clutching at the hem of her dress. “About Ennarah.”

Slowly, Tilly dropped to her heels, down to Rosette’s level. “Yeah?”

Rosette lowered her eyes, studying her fingers, rubbing at the threads. “I was listening through the door when you and Spookyrah were talking to her. I wanted to know what was going on ‘cause nobody will tell me. I’m sorry.”

Tilly ruffled the fur on Rosette’s head. “Nah, I’m sorry we haven’t said anything to you. I forget you’re all smart and grown up and I don’t have to keep secrets.”

“I heard what Ennarah said, about my dad. It’s not true. He told me what happened and it’s not what she said.”

“Oh?”

“Daddy said Ennarah was the one who made the guy with the red eyes cut my toes off, and that’s why he took me away. And she got mad when she found out he had me and that’s why we had to leave.”

“Randy...cut your toes off?”

Rosette squeezed her eyes shut, her fists clenching into the fabric of her skirt. “I think he was trying to make my mom do something she didn’t want to do...and hurt us to make her sad. She was always scared after that, so I had to go live with dad and he told me all this stuff. He didn’t like Ennarah very much and I think she told him to get rid of me. He put the heart in my ear so I could remember him.”

Tilly wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, so she just pulled Rosette against her chest. “He’s not gonna get you again, I promise. He’d have to go through Spookyrah first, and she’s the toughest rabbit I know.”

Rosette rubbed her face into Tilly’s neck fur. “Daddy was pretty tough, too, but not even El-Ahrairah can outrun a bullet.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tilly said, hoisting the kit up to her hip. “But I know where Spooky keeps the kevlar.”

Rosette’s soft smile could have single-handedly been responsible for melting the icebergs. She settled against Tilly’s shoulder, little hands grabbing to her shirt for stability, her ears brushing the side of Tilly’s face.

Tilly realized, as they stepped out of the laundry room and into the hallway, that Rosette fit there perfectly, in the hollow of her waist.

“Are you and Spookyrah moms together now?” Rosette asked.

Tilly pretended to look scandalized. “What? Do I look like I got kits? I mean, y’know, besides the one I’m holding.”

Rosette giggled. “No! I mean like…” She leaned into Tilly’s ear, whispering. “Do you  _ like _ each other now.”

“Ooh, you mean  _ rusamitha _ .”

“Ruh-sa-mee-tha,” Rosette said, rolling the sounds around in her mouth.

“It means heart-sister. It’s what you call a doe when you love her and wanna be with her forever.”

“Like your mom?”

“More like...your best friend, but you probably live together and spend a lot of time together. And sometimes you might make  _ her _ a mom, if you’re a buck. Y’know?”

Rosette stroked the fur on her chin, deep in thought. “Hmm.”

“To answer your question, though, yeah, maybe.” Saying it felt weird. Like it wasn’t real yet, but the look on the kit’s face made Tilly think maybe it wasn’t so terrifying after all.

“Are you gonna have babies?”

“Not me, Rooroo. Spooky might though, if she finds a buck she likes.”

“Are you gonna help her take care of her babies?”

“I hope so. If not, I might have to go snatch one off the street.” Tilly grabbed at Rosette’s leg with the hand holding her up, tickling her.

Finally, Tilly felt the lightness come to her steps, as Rosette squirmed in her arms, her laughter echoing off the vaulted foyer ceiling.

“Whattaya say we blow this joint and go get that ice cream I promised you, yeah?” Tilly said, dropping her voice, pretending to whisper. “I know where Spooky keeps her car keys. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Rosette held a finger to her lips, giggling softly.

Tilly set her down at the bottom of the staircase, pointing to the front door. “Keep a lookout for me, okay?”

There was a quick burst of enthusiastic nodding, then Rosette spun on her feet and stood up straight: serious, watching, listening.

Tilly jogged up the stairs and into Spooky’s office, snatching the keys from her desk and announcing her desired destination. Spooky looked like she wanted to tell her not to leave, but she didn’t, just mumbled to be safe before turning back to her computer. Tilly knew. It was just ice cream.

Rosette grinned wide when she saw the keys in Tilly’s hands, delighted by the illusion of mischief, pulling down the handle of the front door of the house, sneaking through on silent feet.

Her triumphant cheer turned to a strangled cry as Tilly stepped through the door and found Randy standing in front of an unfamiliar black sedan in the driveway, his hand closing rapidly around Rosette’s arm.

  
  
  
  
  


“Well, well, isn’t this a stroke of luck. I came here ‘cause someone told me you guys were harbouring a five-toed doe kit with a heart in her ear and here she comes, bolting out of the door to meet me,” Randy said, looking up at Tilly with a wolfish smile. “I’m gonna assume I should thank you for coming to bring her to me, and not that you were keeping her hidden on purpose.”

Rosette struggled in his grip, clawing at his hand, his nails digging into her skin. He was wearing thick leather gloves, no doubt to hide the bandages where Tilly had bit through his palm.

She pushed back the urge to lunge off of the front portico and sink her teeth into the other one, opting instead to saunter slowly down the steps, swinging her legs out wide.

“Why are you lookin’ for the kit, anyway?” she asked, casual, lacing her hands behind her back.

“‘Cause someone paid me to. Are you gonna let me leave with her, or are we doing this the hard way?”

“Tell me, and I’ll let you have her.” She kicked a heel out, leaning in to her left. Two more steps and she’d be in full view of one of the security cameras, hidden beneath the awning of the portico.

“What’s it to you?”

“Curiosity, really. Been wrackin’ our brains all week to find out what the fuck is so valuable ‘bout that kit and ain’t got any answers. Figure you do, and you’re here, so.” Tilly shrugged.

Randy narrowed his eyes. “Someone needs her gone. She isn’t supposed to be alive, and it was causing problems for my client.”

“Is it Blackpaw?” Tilly stopped walking. The camera under the awning should now be looking square at her back. She held out two fingers, then three, then two. S.O.S.

“I’m not-”

“Oh come on, we both know she’s batshit crazy and that that’s her kit. I just wanna know. What, is the lil’ scamp _ actually _ worth a million four-leafs? You gonna pay me that reward money? ‘Cause I could use the cash; I got a lotta nightclubs to run.”

Rosette was staring at her like she’d just shot her father.

Randy laughed, and there was no joy in the sound. “Maybe not a mil, but enough to keep me and my boys eating the good shit for a while.” 

Tilly flicked her fingers again. Where’s all that goddamn security that they loaded up yesterday? “Damn, if bein’ senator pays that well, I might consider goin’ into office. I’m pretty good at smiling and nodding.” She needed to move her hands before he got suspicious. “Though, I guess if it makes you go nuts and wanna knock off your own kits...maybe not.”

He was starting to walk away. She needed to keep stalling but he had what he wanted in his hands and didn’t seem the talkative type.

She called after him from the stairs. “Come on, just answer me. What made Blackpaw snap?”

Randy turned and looked up at her, sneering. “The three dead kits I cut up at her feet, probably. This one’s lucky she caved before I moved up to the rest of her legs. Daddy found out it was his own warren that hired me and decided this,” He shook Rosette’s arm. “Was more important than his own vow.”

His sneer widened, and something nasty glittered in his deep red eyes. “I’ll tell you another secret, too, little doe: I didn’t find this place all on my own; I got the address from someone who’s got it memorized. So y’know, now that you don’t have your little kit to deal with anymore, maybe you should start taking a look at your warrenmates. Maybe start with the ones that don’t seem to like your Rah very much.”

Tilly felt her heart drop into her toes.

“Anyway,” Randy called. “Thanks for keeping this safe for me. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Randy didn’t take more than two steps before Rosette howled, dropping her legs out from underneath her, pulling Randy’s arm down as she fell to the ground. She twisted in his grasp, kicking at his arm from her back, teeth bared, eyes wild.

His head jerked down and to the side as she threw him off balance just as the crack of a gunshot echoed through the air, blood spraying across the grass at his feet.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly could see straight through the hole in his ear, as he rounded on her, eyes aflame. He threw Rosette away from him like she were a viper that had bit him, fumbling in his waistband for what was no doubt Spooky’s handgun. Tilly ducked low, the sound of the sniper recharging their rifle just barely audible above the ringing in her ears.

The second shot punched through his thigh, dropping him to his knees.

The doors to the black sedan burst open, Randy’s cronies jumping out, guns drawn.

The world seemed to move slowly. The sniper rifle fired again, one of the gang rabbits dropping to the ground, fingers twitching erratically. Rosette wrenched herself out of Randy’s grip and bolted for Tilly, not quite fast enough to escape the reaching hands of the car’s driver, snatching her by the ear and wrenching her backwards into the back seat. Randy on one knee, racking the slide on Spooky’s gun. Behind her, the front doors of the house being thrown open, security barking orders, rifles already shouldered.

Tilly felt her feet pushing her forward, towards the rabbit with his claws in Rosette’s ear, firing potshots in her direction. Adrenaline was rushing the blood in her ears as she closed the distance between them in seconds, driving her elbow into the brown and white buck’s jaw, knocking his head back against the doorframe of the car. She grabbed his face in both hands and smashed him into the frame again, three, four times, til she could feel him go limp in her hands. She felt someone grab her arm from behind and she planted a fist into their face as well, feeling the delicate nasal bones crunch beneath her knuckles.

The steeled gray buck stumbled back, clutching his face, and it was just enough time for someone to put a bullet in his head, as well.

But not enough time for Tilly to side-step the still open car door as it slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground with a rush of air from her lungs. The tires spun in the gravel mere inches from her head, kicking dust into her eyes as the sedan peeled out backwards down the driveway. A couple more shots echoed from the roof, plinking off of the no doubt reinforced engine block of the car.

Someone grabbed Tilly’s shoulder, and she lashed out blindly as she flipped onto her back, finding only Spooky crouched over her, unflinching.

“Where’s Rosette?”

The adrenaline drained from Tilly’s body like a cut artery. Her hands shook uncontrollably where they held onto Spooky’s arms. “Car,” was all she managed to say.

Spooky swore.

“Ya at least get him to say anythin’ useful before the shootin’ started?”

“Tamina hired him to pressure Blackpaw and the only reason Rosette’s alive is she caved before he could take her out. Then something about Red finding out and defecting to keep the kit safe.” She was trying to catch her breath but the adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, her head moving too fast. “He didn’t outright say it, but I’m pretty sure this is Blackpaw trying to clean up the mess and cut all her Hrair ties.”

Spooky frowned. “Enna said somethin’ ‘bout Blackpaw bein’ glad to have ‘em outta her fur. Fuckin’ Frith.”

Tilly looked up at her with bleary eyes. “You were right, she was lying through her teeth.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Well, guess it’s a good fuckin’ thing I sent off a buncha patrol, ‘cause now we really do hafta keep an eye on our fuckin’ borders.” Spooky sat on the back of her desk, a cigarette between her fingers.

Tilly was sitting on the meeting couch, on her third cigarette since she’d come back inside, which had done nothing to ease the trembling in her hands.

Downstairs, liquor was flowing, though not happily. Most of the security rabbits had never been a real firefight, and they were coping best they could. Well trained as always, they had easily subdued their opponents, but the sight of three bodies staining the gravel drive red was a lot to work through.

Of the rabbits that walked off of the lawn alive, Randy was not one of them. Though according to a dead-eyed Tassadar, he put up a pretty decent fight. The kid was rubbing his hand over the bruises in his stomach and knocking back whiskey shots to dull the pain of being only a few centimeters of kevlar away from surgery, again. This week would follow him to the grave.

Spooky sighed.

“So, whaddaya wanna do?”

“Hm?”

Spooky pointed her cigarette in Tilly’s direction. “About yer kit. Dunno if I’ve misread the situation with her, but I was under the impression ya wanted to keep her. Pretty clear Blackpaw ain’t want nothin’ to do with her, so bob-stone’s in yer court, or whatever the sayin’ is.”

Tilly closed her eyes, exhaling. “I don’t know, Spooky, I’m not cut out for kits-”

“Look,” Spooky interrupted. “I ain’t professin’ to be an expert in yer situation by any means, but yer ‘bout as good at hidin’ it as ya are respectin’ my authority. If ya want the damn kit I’ll get it done.”

“I’d hate to put us in a gang war over a kit.”

“We’re boutta be in a gang war anyway, what’s one more thing on the grocery list. Also,” And this time she shoved a long clawed finger in Tilly’s face. “Anythin’ is worth goin’ to war over if ya want it bad enough.”

  
  
  
  
  


Lunch was a somber affair, Trinity making the most of the ingredients she had on hand, the pantry nearly wiped from making dinner for half the warren. Nevertheless, everyone got fed, and it was all actually quite good. Tilly would give her that. She may not be bright, but she was talented in the kitchen. She’d even made dessert, her tiny white hands delicately swirling icing atop vanilla and chocolate cupcakes.

“I give it ‘til dinnertime before Randy’s boys realize they boss ain’t comin’ back an’ our driveway fulla black sedans again,” Juliet grumbled. “We could be at the bar havin’ a normal-ass workday but  _ nooo _ , y’all gotta go an’ shoot the fuckin’ gang rah right as he was boutta take away the lil’ problem kitten an’ free us from all’is bullshit.”

Tilly shot her a sideways glare. “We can’t all be as pragmatic as you, Jules.”

Juliet sighed, rolling her eyes. “So I’m gettin’ some more guns, for eacha y’all, an’ vests. Military’s bringin’ the big guys back in, but everybody gotta be ready. Best case scenario it’s all fine an’ all we gotta do is be like ‘sorry y’all here’s yer boss’ body please don’t bother us no more’. Worst case, well.” She didn’t need to finish.

“You think they’re gonna be that aggressive?”

“How’d you feel if I went an’ shot Spooky, huh? Yeah, they’re gonna be fuckin’  _ pissed _ . An’ if they was willin’ to chop up kits in fronta their doe for money, they prolly ain’t gonna have a whole lotta qualms ‘bout mowin’ all  _ us _ down onna steps for what I’m bettin’ is a fat stack o’ cash from da senator.”

Tassadar looked up from his plate, eyes still hollow. “Get me one. I wanna help.”

“Already plannin’ on it. Ya might be a fuckin’ idiot butcha got hands an’ at least one workin’ eye, so you gon’ be out dere with us, like it or not.”

He nodded, not a hint of excitement on his face.

“Sooo,” Juliet sneered, turning her attention to Tilly now, looking pointedly at the kit by her side. “She worth it?”

“Don’t start, Juliet.”

“Nah, I’m really curious. Ya got Ten shot up, Tass busted twice, N’rithaa ripped tits to tail,  _ an’ _ yer warren thrown into a gang war - all fer a kit that ain’t even yours.  _ Was she worth it _ ?”

Tilly’s voice was low, dangerous. “None of this is my fault, and you need to shut the fuck up. I still outrank you; don’t forget.”

“Only ‘cause you was Chloe’s diversity hire,” she snorted.

N’rithaa glared at her from across the table. “We all have to prove ourselves in order to-”

“Hah! I wish.” She curled her lip in Tilly’s direction again, her eyes dark. “ _ Most  _ of us gotta bust our ass in order to get anywhere inna warren, but dere’s plenty of rabbits that jus’ fuck they way to da top.”

N’rithaa stood up suddenly, nearly knocking her chair back onto the floor, fist slamming on the table so hard it rattled the dishes.

Juliet held out her hands. “What? We all know it, why else y’all think Spooky made ‘er stay up here an’ nobody else? I ain’t got nothin’ against it, shit, I’d fuck da Rah if it meant I get a free pass outta dis firefight.”

“You need to slow your roll, Juliet,” Tilly warned. “Her arms are long enough to reach over the table.”

The lop looked up at N’rithaa out of the corner of her eye, and decided to shove the rest of her food into her mouth and excuse herself rather than risk the threat of a boxer’s fist being directed at her face. After a few tense seconds, N’rithaa sat back down, snorting. “One of these days I’m gonna kill her.”

Tilly leaned back in her chair, taking a big swig of her soda before dropping the can noisily onto the table. 

She found Juliet in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of  _ Ni-Frith _ whiskey and seething. She flinched slightly at the sight of someone walking in behind her, but relaxed when she saw it was Tilly, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, it’s you. Thought for a second I actually had somethin’ ta worry abou-”

Tilly cold-clocked the lop doe in the jaw. The sight of Juliet’s eyes blowing wide as her head snapped back filled Tilly with no small spark of grim satisfaction, and she felt her pulse spike in her ears. Before Juliet could react, Tilly had grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and forced her against the wall, head cracking against the tiles.

“You speak to me like that again, and I will educate you on why I outrank you.”

Juliet started to say something snide, and Tilly broke her nose.

“Like it or not, I  _ am  _ your superior, and if you don’t start showing me some _ fucking  _ respect, you might start lookin’ a lot like one of the fuckers we’re ‘bout to get in a fight with and wind up with a bullet in your head.  _ You hear me _ ?”

It seemed that being cocky was difficult while choking on one’s own blood. Juliet’s eyes were on fire but she nodded anyway, muttering a “yes ma’am” through gritted teeth.

Tilly strolled casually back into the dining room, pressing a fresh cold can of soda against her smarting knuckles. “Next time she mouths off she’s yours, N,” Tilly said as she flopped back down into her chair.

The brown doe popped her neck. “With pleasure.”


	10. Chapter Nine

Tilly still wasn’t convinced she was attached to Rosette. Sure, she’d slept better when the kit was next to her than she had in years, and sure her heart sang a little song every time Rosette smiled. All incidental. The pacing, the picking at her nails, the anxiety, all that was because she was nervous about being in a firefight. Right?

“Information is just like, a hobby, y’know?” Pixie said through the speaker of Tilly’s phone. “I just have a lot of dirt on bucks because they love spilling their guts after busting.”

“I know, but you’re the only lead we’ve got up there. You got all that stuff on Red in like, an hour, surely you can figure out where the Hand is holed up.” She ran her fingers through the fur on her neck.

“You know I’m a prostitute, not a spy, right?”

“Then go...stick your leg out and wag your tail at the dockyards or whatever y’all have up there. You want money, we’ll pay you.” Tilly realized she’d been scratching the same spot on her neck too long and now it was raw. “We just gotta get out there before something happens.”

She tried to tell herself that she meant to the _ warren _ , but she knew she was lying.

Pixie seemed to be trying and failing to hide the smile in her voice. “Aw, Tilly. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t invested in this adorable little love story you two got going on here. I’m also not a big fan of like, anything a group of bucks would do to a six year old kit behind closed doors. I can’t promise you I’ll get you anything really worthwhile, but I’ll do my best. Pro bono.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Shut up! I want to! You two are too fucking cute and I want you to be happy!” Pixie barked, effectively shutting Tilly up. “Besides, after losing Axel and Red, and all this shit with Enna, I’m honestly starting to consider moving down south.”

“Thanks, Pixie.”

“Thank me once I actually find something out.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tilly pulled a shirt on over her kevlar vest, buttoning it up to her chin - higher than she usually did - before slipping on her blazer. She knocked back another extra-strength aspirin, smacking the cup on the counter with a loud pop. 

“Well, Tass, this is it. You sure you wanna stay in on this? You can always go home; it ain’t really your fight.”

Next to her, Tassadar was loading the gun Juliet had given him. “I told you the other day in the car. It may not be official, but I’m Hrair, and I’ll be dead before I’m called a coward.”

She smiled. “That kinda loyalty is gonna get you killed one day, but at least you’ll get a fern on your grave.”

“All I ever wanted,” he mumbled.

Once they were strapped, loaded, zipped, and buckled, Tilly patted Tassadar on the shoulder and ushered him out of the door and towards one of the vans parked on the lawn. The military Owsla, a massive sand-coloured lop buck that stood taller even than N’rithaa was directing the operation, barking out orders in a voice like thunder. 

He caught Tassadar’s arm, pulling him away from Tilly. “You, who you work for?”

“I’m from Riverside, sir.”

The lop glared at Tassadar’s empty ear. “You ever fired a gun, _ silfessi _ ?”

“Yes, sir, I was one of the ones in this morning’s fight.”

“Good, at least ya won’t be completely useless,” he said, jerking Tassadar towards a group of young-looking bucks standing in a circle.

“All due respect, sir, I’d like to stay with my boss.” He pointed from himself to Tilly and back again. “We work good together. We have a thing.”

The Owsla glared at him, then at Tilly over his shoulder. “Oh.  _ Her _ .”

“Uh, yes sir. Is that okay?”

Tilly could feel the disapproval from ten feet away. “Yeah, fine, go fer it. Grab an earpiece from Camilla and load up in the second car.”

From seemingly nowhere, Spooky appeared, outfitted as heavily as everyone around her. It was odd, Tilly realized, to see her wearing proper clothes. “Hold up, Hehlant, those two comin’ with me in the entourage.”

“Ya sure? This tiny... _ doe _ , an’ an unmarked  _ silfessi _ ?”

Spooky grinned. “Yup. They both a lot tougher n’ they look, I promise.”

Hehlant scowled. “If you say so,  _ ma’am _ . Might wanna at least get ‘em some firearms, though.”

She winked and shot him a finger gun. “Already on it.”

She snaked her arms around Tilly and Tassadar’s necks as they walked off, their height differences making it difficult for her to stand up straight. “Figured I’d save y’all from bein’ meat shields,” she said once they were out of earshot.

Tilly did not miss the significance of Spooky sliding into the driver’s seat of her car, hands shaking but purposeful as they turned the key in the ignition. 

“Make sure ya conceal yer guns good,” she said, leaning out of the window, catching Tassadar’s attention as he loaded into the next car. “There’s always a chance they’ll actually let us talk instead’a shootin’ first an’ askin’ questions later.”

He blinked. “Are you...planning on going in there by yourself?”

Her teeth flashed in the light. “Nope, Tilly’s comin’ with me. My own personal bodyguard. Romantic, ain’t it?”

Tilly shifted in her seat, giving Spooky a sarcastic grin. “You pitched a huge fit a week ago ‘cause you were scared I was gonna die and now you’re draggin’ me directly into the lion’s den.”

“More like I knew if I told ya to stay home you’d just sneak out and getcher self killed.”

She meant it as a playful jab, but Spooky’s words were hitting a little close to home, now.

“I mean...” Spooky waved a hand dismissively. “Y’know what I mean.”

The motorcade of glittering black SUVs turned onto the highway, merging into traffic, heading north towards Tamina headquarters in the outskirts of Ash Hill. They had no idea if that’s where they’d taken Rosette, but it was good a place to start as any. And if she weren’t there, Spooky was pretty confident in her ability to beat the information they needed out of Enna if necessary.

Tilly leaned against the door of the car, trying to find a position halfway comfortable in her gear. “You know that plan is gonna mean animosity with Tamina forever, right?”

Spooky made a face. “Oh nooo, whatever will I do, not bein’ able to hang out with a warren fulla lyin’ kit-whore peddlers that hire street gangs to do their dirty work.” She snorted. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“And if she don’t give up?”

A wicked smile spread across Spooky’s face as she reached behind her back with one hand, scooting forward just a little. From somewhere beneath her jacket she produced a foot-long knife, the handle and sheath beautifully painted with deep blue primroses, lacquered to a shine. She thumbed the seam, exposing a sliver of the dark patina of the blade hidden within.

“You’re gonna  _ stab _ the Rah of Tamina warren.”

“I’m gonna _ lovingly convince _ her, Tilly. It’s only stabbin’ if ya kill ‘em.”

“You really are feeling held back in your new position, aren’t you?”

Spooky dropped the knife into the cupholder. “I ain’t had a good scrap since I had to beat half the warren into obedience an’ that was like six months ago. I’m fuckin’  _ dyin’ _ out here.”

“Get us outta here alive and I’ll hook you up with N’rithaa. She does cage fights.”

Spooky could not have looked happier than if Tilly had dropped a kilo of coke into her lap and gave her the week off.

“So,” Tilly said, leaning back in the seat. “You ever actually been to Tamina?”

Spooky cackled. “Nope! Yer as blind as I am. All I know is their Rah is a lyin’ bitch an’ needs a crash course in how Crixa handles rabbits like her.”

“We know they’re down one Owsla, and from what Pixie says, it’s not a big warren in general. Hehlant sent us a dozen big bucks, and that’ll be enough to keep you alive if it gets hairy, anyway.” Tilly said.

“Speakin’ of Pixie, ya heard from her yet?”

“No, not yet. I guess espionage takes time.”

Tilly wasn’t exactly sure coaxing the location of a street gang’s hideout through someone’s dick required four hours, but what did she know. She was neither a spy nor a prostitute.

The line between rural and urban in this city was jarring, the low, square skyscrapers looming over farmhouses like snakes about to strike their prey. Dark gray clouds hovered on the horizon, the electricity in the air making Tilly’s whiskers buzz. It was almost cliche, like a scene from a movie. They were the heroes driving into the storm to initiate the climax of their story.

The car drove into the wall of buildings, and Tilly felt her breath quicken.

Spooky’s voice was low as she pulled into the garage of a cluster of nondescript concrete office blocks. “Check yer straps an’ magazines ladies, the curtain’s botta rise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The inside of the building was as nondescript as the outside - gray carpet, white ceiling tiles, this weird kind of panel covering the wall that, considering the amount of calendars and charts pinned to it, was secretly a corkboard. It looked, for all the world, like every single other legit office building Tilly had ever seen.

Except most of them didn’t have a big, angry looking doe in a suit standing in front of the door.

“It ain’t office hours-” the doe started, but Spooky clocked her in the jaw and she decided not to argue the point any further.

“I thought we were trying  _ not _ to resort to violence,” Tassadar quipped, but Spooky was too busy vibrating out of her skin to answer.

The secretary sitting at the welcome desk jumped up when the newcomers walked through the door, barking some iteration of “you don’t belong here” at them, which they duly ignored. Orange and black hands grabbed the neck of the secretary’s lacy dress and yanked her up to her tiptoes, nose-to-nose with Spooky.

“Ya scream, I cut yer throat. Get on yer phone an’ call Enna in, right now. Y’hear?”

She secretary nodded. Spooky dropped her.

“E-Ennarah, you have visitors,” she stammered into the speakerphone on her desk, eyes jumping from Spooky, to Tilly, to Tassadar, and back.

They heard a door slam somewhere deeper in the building, and the secretary looked as though she were going to drop dead right there.

Enna was ten feet from the fire escape when Spooky caught her, catching the black and white doe’s elbow and slithering between her and the door, too close for comfort.

“What’s the hurry, eh?”

Enna glared up at her, nose flaring. “It’s not office hours.”

“Still rude not to at least come see a visitor when they come in, y’know. Or they not teach ya’ll customer service up here in the fuckin’ sticks?” Spooky was forcing Enna backwards, closing the gap between her and the wall behind them.

“What do you want, Spookyrah?” Enna said through gritted teeth.

“Where’s the kit?”

“I don’t know-”

Spooky flattened her ears and bared her teeth. “Cut the shit, Enna. Yer lil’ hired thug spilled the beans before my boys filled his ass fulla lead. I know yer the one that set this whole thing up, an’ I want my kit back.” Enna’s back hit the flimsy wall, and it wobbled threateningly beneath their combined weight. “Right. Fuckin’. Now.”

“I don’t have her,” Enna hissed. “I didn’t have anything to do wi-”

There was no flash as Spooky pressed the blade of her knife against Enna’s neck. “Ya wanna be done lyin’?”

“I really don’t know where she is. I washed my hands of this whole fucking affair the second Red dropped dead on your lackey’s floor.” She gripped Spooky’s wrist in one surprisingly large white hand, attempting to push the blade away.

Spooky was stronger, bigger, and way, way more pissed. She leaned into Enna, the knife sliding through her fur and against her skin, just short of drawing blood. “Is that why ya were at my warren ‘to see a friend’?”

“I-”

“I ain’t stupid, y’know. Ya might think so ‘cause I got a thick accent an’ I solve mosta my problems with my fists, but I ain’t get to be Rah ‘cause I hit the hardest. Turns out I’m pretty fuckin’ good at readin’ between lines, an’ I figgered out that it ain’t no coincidence I find ya in my kitchen the mornin’ before my kit get stolen.”

“I really was there to see my friend.”  
“That so? ‘Cause I ain’t never heard yer name before an’ Nildro been my Owsla for nearly a year.” She leaned onto the arm the knife was in, and Enna had nowhere to go. The wall buckled behind them. “Where. Is. Rosette.”

“I don’t have your fucking kit,” Enna snarled. “And I don’t know where the Hand is, either. They didn’t come to me once they got what they came for. So maybe you should go find someone else to interrogate and get the fuck out of my warren.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Pixie’s not picking up,” Tilly said, her phone playing back Pixie’s voicemail message for the third time in as many minute. “Something’s wrong.”

Spooky swore. “We ain’t got time to go drivin’ around this entire fuckin’ city to find ‘er right now, but she’s the only lead we even halfway got.”

Tilly felt the anxiety settle like lead in her guts. Every second they wasted were seconds that could be shaving off of Rosette’s life, and the thought alone was forcing Tilly into a silent crisis in the passenger seat of her Rah’s car. The single realization that she was actually worried about the kit because she was actually attached brought up a whole cascade of other, equally as distressing questions.

There wasn’t time for this.

She ripped herself out of the never-ending merry go round of suffering in her brain and tried to focus on the current problem instead. “What...what about Maléficent?”

“Huh?”

“The...the hookah bar doe. Pixie acted like they know each other - maybe they at least know somewhere we can look for her?”

Spooky’s jaw tightened. “Better’n nothin’.”

  
  
  
  
  


Spooky parked on the street in front of Maléficent’s bar, directly underneath the pink neon sign. Between the three cars they were blocking a fire lane and two driveways, but they were all long past giving a shit. If the cops wanted to leave a ticket, they were gonna have to go through thirteen Hrair commando, armed to the teeth.

The front room was exactly as Tilly remembered it when they stepped in, full of floral tobacco and marijuana and incense, the lights turned down low. The silver-furred waitress’ warm greeting evaporated like rain on hot concrete, her gray eyes dilating at the sight of Tilly and Spooky standing in the doorway like reapers. She offered a shaking “one moment please,” before ducking behind the beaded curtain as fast as her stocky legs would carry her.

Maléficent’s face was drawn when she emerged from the darkness only a few moments later, wordlessly leading them through the blacklight lounge and through an unmarked steel door.

Pixie was sitting at a desk, a smear of dried blood not quite cleaned off of the side of her face, squinting out of one eye. “‘Sup. Was hoping you’d think to check here for me.”

Spooky sucked air through her teeth. “Fuckin’ Frith, Pixie, what happened?”

“Enna. She’s smarter than she looks; caught wind to what I was up to when I went to her office to ask about Rosette even though I was being casual. She was real polite, but the trio of thugs she sicced on me weren’t.” She laughed. “Should see them, though. Don’t think they expected someone like me to fight back. Busted my damn phone though, s’why I didn’t call you back. Sorry about that. Couldn’t remember your number for the pay phones.”

“Really more concerned about you not being dead,” Tilly said.

“Y’might wanna get a move on, actually. Enna ain’t got your girl but we think we know who does.”

“One of my street girls saw a buck with a Hand of Inlé tattoo dragging a black kit around about an hour and a half ago,” Maléficent said, arms crossed. “She tailed him best she could, but he went off into the industrial district and my girl didn’t feel safe going in there alone.”

“I was headin’ that way when I got jumped,” Pixie continued. “Only got as far as seein’ a few of the fuckers skulking around this old slaughterhouse. It’s somewhere to start anyway.”

“Thanks,” Spooky said, nodding towards Pixie, then Maléficent. “Yer a big help.”

Pixie stood on unsteady legs, reaching a hand out toward Tilly, who then received the entirety of the tall doe’s weight on her. “Nuh nuh nuh, I’m going with you.”

“You’re so punch-drunk you’re leaning on a doe half your height,” Tilly squeaked, shifting Pixie’s weight onto her shoulder instead of her head.

Pixie snorted. “Yeah, but I’m the only one who knows where the fuck I’m going.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The unhealthy orange glow reflected on the underside of the clouds led the motorcade directly to the industrial district. A thick haze of smoke and steam enveloped the cars, harsh factory lighting seeming to erase every semblance of a shadow as they passed under endless mazes of pipes and scaffolding.

“This seem shady as shit,” Tassadar mumbled, gazing out of the window.

Spooky snorted. “It’s a street gang, whaddaya expect? Not everybody classy like we are.”

“See anything familiar yet?” Tilly asked. There was nothing but steam and orange bug lights for miles, not a body in sight.

“I really just have a general location from some eavesdropping,” Pixie said, significantly more coherent than she was ten minutes ago. “Randy liked to keep his shit on lock, so not everyone knows the location of every room they use to hole up hostages. So we just have to drive around ‘til we see something, I guess.”

They didn’t have to look for long. At the end of a dead-end road, where pavement turned into gravel, Tilly caught a glimpse of a solid white rabbit’s head sticking out from around a corner. When it saw the line of cars rolling up their driveway, the rabbit turned tail and sprinted into a seemingly abandoned warehouse.

Spooky’s eyes narrowed. “Bingo.”

The white rabbit kicked the door open from the inside in what he probably thought was a dramatic move, the sneer plastered on his face faltering when he saw the half-circle of kevlar-clad Hrair standing just outside. He’d brought backup this time - two big bucks wearing sleeveless embroidered vests obviously designed to show off their arms and not for practicality. They popped their knuckles threateningly.

The white rabbit puffed his chest out. “This is off-limits to anyone but the Hand of Inlé! Y’all better leave before we fuck you up!”

Spooky looked bored as she grabbed the white rabbit by the face and knocked him into the thug standing behind him, staggering them both long enough for her to shoulder her way through the door.

“H-hey! You aren’t allowed in there!” One of them called, seconds before one of the military rabbits planted the butt of his rifle into his nose.

The door dumped them into the back corridor of the slaughterhouse, defunct cooling and packing rooms piled high with boxes reeking of insect shit and mould. They moved slowly, creeping along the hallway, ears straining to hear anything through the thick concrete walls. A heated murmur of voices and the rumble of a generator drifted through a set of free-swinging double doors at the end of the hallway, and Tilly felt her pulse spike.

The guard at the door was half-asleep until Spooky whacked her on the head with the hilt of her knife. The heavyset steeled doe nearly jumped out of her fur, swinging a wild haymaker at Spooky’s head, which she easily dodged.

“ _ Ho _ , that was close,” she quipped, drawing a single drop of blood from the tip of the guard doe’s nose with a flick of the knife in her wrist.

The doe lunged, arms out to grab her opponent in a bear hug that would’ve crushed her ribs if it had landed. Spooky leaned back til her tail nearly touched her calves, twisting under and away from the steel doe, dragging the blunt side of the knife up her hip and waist, just to prove a point.

Watching Spooky move was like a religious experience, and Tilly found herself staring dumbly for several seconds, completely fixated. For a rabbit so tall as she was, it was almost unsettling how far she could bend, her every motion smooth and calculated. The knife moved like an extension of her arm, another, razor-sharp digit which she wielded with the uncharacteristic grace of a dancer, no matter which hand it happened to be in. She kited the steel doe like she was homework and Spooky had memorized the score key, dodging every punch, sliding out of every attempt at catching her in a corner, leaving nothing but shallow cuts in her clothing when she could easily have ended the fight then and there. It was taking more effort to hold back than it would be to drive the blade between the steel doe’s ribs, and the fact that she was being teased was driving her mad.

Spooky was showing off, Tilly knew she was. And it was working. The energy was sparking around Spooky’s body as she moved, white-hot and intoxicating.

“What in the actual fuck-” came a voice from Tilly’s right, and without even thinking she spun her upper body, her left fist connecting with a Hand buck’s jaw. She felt his teeth rattle in his head, and she saw blood already dripping from his mouth as he recoiled.

Spooky’s back pressed against her own, and it felt like a circuit was completed, the lightning arcing across Tilly’s shoulders and down her arms and out of her fingertips.

Playtime was over. They moved like a single unit, years of muscle memory reawakened in seconds like it had never been lost in the first place. The most subtle of tells were all it took, the slightest shift in weight when Spooky switched hands, the way Tilly breathed just before kicking a leg out to sweep her opponent’s feet from under them, leaving him open to the knife that was too close to escape by the time he knew what was happening.

The blade cut through the buck’s cheek, flicking droplets across the wall and the floor as he staggered back, clutching his face. The steel doe saw an opportunity and threw herself at Spooky’s unprotected back, who sidestepped her with no effort at all. Tilly was ready, and she smashed the palm of her hand into the doe’s nose, just long enough for the two to aim kicks directly to either side of the steel doe’s head, dropping her like a stone.

Spooky was grinning like a maniac, eyes dilated, ears flushed. The air was electric between them. Tilly felt ten years younger, like they were barely older than kits again, pounding punks in alleyways, side by side. She felt alive again.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the buck getting back up, and they let him get within arm’s reach before they caught him by the collar and threw him bodily through the door he was supposed to be guarding.

The kill floor was lit by a jobsite light approximately twice as bright as the sun, connected by snake like extension cords plugged into a portable generator set near an open door at the back of the knocking chute. All of the equipment had been removed - no hooks in the motorized rail, no captive-bolt gun attached to the wall-mounted air compressor at the end of the chute, but the room still carried the feeling of dread, the smell of old blood soaked into concrete and steel.

Standing in the center of the room was a ring of rough-looking rabbits surrounding a buck with a face split right down the middle, one half black, one half white. He was held a gun in one hand, gesturing wildly towards a well-dressed doe with gray fur standing just outside the halo of light.

In his other hand he was gripping the arm of a dark-furred doe kit with eyes as hard as black diamonds.

Tilly felt ice-cold claws reach into her chest and wrap around her heart. Next to her, she felt Spooky’s energy change, from white-hot to the low heat of a dying fire, ready at any moment to reignite.

Every eye in the room turned towards them, the double-doors flapping behind them, the knife in Spooky’s hand, the security buck groaning at her feet.

“Who in the  _ fuck _ are you?” the black and white buck said, exasperated.

“Could ask the same,” Spooky said. “But I’m not gonna, ‘cause I don’t actually care.” 

He let go of Rosette, puffing out his chest. “I am the right captain of the Hand of Inlé, Bl-” he barked.

“I said I didn’t care.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but she ignored him, tossing her head in Rosette’s direction. “That’s mine.”

The buck laughed. “Uh, no, it’s mine.”

Spooky sheathed her knife, making a show of it. “Last I checked bucks couldn’t have kits.”

He rolled his eyes. “It ain’t  _ mine _ , mine. I meant it’s mine like it’s currently in my posession. And it’s gonna stay in my posession, ‘cause my client expects me to do my job.”

“An’ that is?”

He waved the gun in Spooky’s face. “What do you think, dumbass? This kit ain’t supposed to be alive, so I’m finishing what my rah started.”

“What’s ya say I take the kit, ya get another lil’ steel baby, cut its toes off, beat its face in, an’ tell yer client she’s dead. She pays y’all, we get our kit, an’ we all go on our merry lil’ way an’ never hafta speak to each other again.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“As a heart attack.”

The buck stared at her for a long second, before erupting into laughter.

There was the “click” of a tongue from the direction of the doe standing just out of the light, and with a defeated shrug she stepped into the halo of light. Her light gray fur lit up a brilliant silver in the spotlight’s glare, and Tilly realized that she wasn’t gray at all.

Caroline Blackpaw crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “It was a good idea, but it’s not gonna work, honey. Unfortunately I need that kit gone. Permanently. So just pawning her off on someone else isn’t going to cut it.”

Spooky didn’t even bat an eye. “Y’ain’t just pawnin’ her off on anyone. I’m a fuckin’ Hrair Rah. I can make anyone disappear if I need to.”

“Yeeaah, I’m not exactly in the mood to be negotiating with Hrair, you know. It’s kind of what got me in this situation in the first place. So do us all a favour and call your rabbits off so I can get this over with.”

“Even if we cut all ties to ya an’ never talk to ya again?”

She glared up at Spooky. “I can’t have your organization have anything on me. Nothing.  _ Nothing _ . Just being here right now is a huge risk I’m taking; if anyone sees me with you Hrair rabbits I could lose my entire _ life _ . So no, not even if you cut all ties to me, because there will  _ always _ be a tie, and it’ll have brown eyes and four toes.”

“Bein’ tied instead to a street gang like the Hand gonna look any better on yer resume?”

“We’re a fucking  _ organization _ , not a street gang,” the black and white buck snarled over Blackpaw’s shoulder.

Blackpaw’s eyes narrowed further, her ears flat on her head.

“So we change ‘er name an’ burn her birth certificate, what’s yer deal?”

“My  _ deal  _ is my fucking _ livelihood _ , you lowlife cretin,” Blackpaw snarled. “I’ve seen what activities your kind enjoy, and what you’ll do without even batting an eye, and I want nothing to do with it, not even in passing.” She was starting to look manic. “I need that kit gone. I hired Blue to kill her, and you’re getting in our fucking way.”

Spooky held her hands out. “Listen, I got a doe that really would love to have yer kit an’ I swear on El-Ahrairah’s grave ya won’t hear nothin’ ‘bout us or her for the rest of yer life if you’ll save us the trouble of gettin’ this guy off our asses.” She hooked a thumb at Blue, who looked like he was about to say something smart and thought better of it.

Blackpaw narrowed her eyes. “Weren’t you listening to me? I don’t trust Hrair.”

“Whaddaya want me to cut the end o’ my ear off, too? Lady, I ain’t got literally no reason to ever bother with yer crusty ass after I leave here. I ain’t even live in yer fuckin’ province. All ya gotta do is tell two-face to let us keep the kit an’ we’re gone.”

The silver doe closed her eyes, pressing her hands together underneath her chin and pacing small circles in front of Spooky.

Tilly had been watching Rosette, Blue’s hand clamped around her arm since the moment they walked in. She was dragged around in silent obedience, stone-faced, staring through the floor at ghosts only she saw. Her eyes met Tilly’s just for a moment, and Tilly could see the same shell-shocked emptiness in them as when she’d asked about her injuries.

Blackpaw stopped pacing. “I need something on you. To make sure you don’t bring this back on me.”

“Ya want me to blackmail...myself. On purpose.”

“You’re asking me to give you a kit that could ruin my _ life _ if it was discovered. Only fair that you give me something equal in return. Equivalent exchange and all that.”

Spooky’s jaw tightened.

“Fine.” She held out her hand. “Gimme yer phone.”

Blackpaw obliged. Spooky tapped the screen for a few moments, before handing it back.

“My legal name an’ registration number. I’m the Rah of one of the biggest warrens in the south; I’m sure the government would love to get their paws on me for one thing or another. Now you’ve got it on yer phone, ready to leak it if myself or any of my rabbits ever contact ya ‘bout anythin’, not just the kit.”

Blackpaw stared at the phone, chewing the inside of her lip. “I can’t, I can’t I-” She looked up, and the strain was visible in her face. “You have to promise me-”

Blue had been stewing silently in the shadow during the exchange, sucking down a cigarette, which he now threw on the ground to smoulder out. “You aren’t seriously considering this, Senator. There’s no way you can trust anything she says.”

Blackpaw rounded on him. “You haven’t been that trustworthy either, you know! I told you to kill the kit and she’s still fucking alive!”

“I was _ getting to it  _ when this bitch kicked my door in and distracted both of us!”

“We’ve been standing here _ how _ long? Instead of monologuing like a video game villain maybe you should have actually done your fucking job!”

Blue’s eyes bulged. “You can’t just sign my target over to the first rabbit that walks in and gives you a sob story about one of her does wanting a baby ‘cause she can’t have her own.”

“She’s _ my _ kit, you waste of space and resources, I can do what I fucking want with her!”

“My rah _ died _ to get this job done for you,” he snarled, clamping a hand on her shoulder. “ _ We had an agreement _ .”

She slapped his hand away. “But no contract. Next time think about how to make better business decisions.”

Blue leveled the gun at Blackpaw’s head. “And you should have thought more about who you were hiring to do your fuckin’ dirty work.”

  
  
  
  
  


Tilly watched Blackpaw’s body crumple in slow motion, blood spraying across the concrete. The shot was still ringing through the room when Spooky lunged at Blue, unsheathing her knife with one hand and grabbing at the gun with the other, wrenching his arm away from herself. A second shot flew wild, punching a hole through the neck of one of Blue’s entourage.

“Yer gonna kill all yer own dudes,” Spooky barked, gesturing to the rabbit on the floor, gurgling and writhing as he drowned on his own blood.

“Not if I kill you first,” he hissed, releasing his grip on Rosette and using his free hand to grab the back of Spooky’s head and smash his forehead into hers.

Rosette, now free, dropped nearly to her heels to launch herself towards Tilly. Lost in the chaos for a moment, she nearly made it, her little hand mere inches from Tilly’s, when one of Blue’s lackeys snatched her up by the ears. He hoisted her, kicking and screaming into the air, like a prize he’d just won.

Tilly slammed bodily into him, and it was like shoulder-bashing a brick wall for all the good it did against a rabbit nearly twice her height and weight. The inertia was driving her spine up through her throat, and so she decided to put that energy to better use by flipping herself so that her back was against his chest, reaching up to hook her hands in his collar and hoist herself up and onto his shoulders. With one fluid motion she hooked one leg underneath his raised arm, swinging the other around his neck and shoulder to lock her toes underneath her knee and crunch forwards, touching her nose to her ankle. She had no hope of dragging him to the ground, she knew, but she didn’t need to. The buck had angle of attack against the very angry doe locked onto his neck, cutting off his circulation so thoroughly that he was already losing consciousness.

He dropped Rosette almost instantly. The kit hit the ground running, sprinting full tilt towards the wall of Crixa rabbits that had just burst through the kill floor doors, guns drawn.

She dropped off of the buck and left him gasping for air on the concrete, her attention captured now by one of his companions who had just retrieved a folding knife from somewhere in his jacket, and was now swinging it at Tilly’s face. He seemed to be very pleased with himself for pulling a weapon on an unarmed doe. But Tilly had fought next to and against Spooky for half her life, and this guy was little more than an over-enthusiastic meathead. She knocked the knife out of his hand with ease, snatching it by the handle and jabbing it into his thigh.

She whirled at the next rabbit closest to her, pausing when she saw the petrified look on his face, a red laser light dancing across his chest.

“We have you outgunned,” the Crixa captain said, rifle gripped firmly in his hands. “Drop your weapons or we shoot.”

Blue let go of Spooky and backed away, hands up. His gun lay on the ground several feet away where Spooky had kicked it after wrenching it from his hand, nearly snapping his arm in the process. She still held her knife loosely in her hand, its handiwork staining the white half of blue’s face a bright red. The two of them were heaving, but Tilly could see the spark behind Spooky’s eyes.

“I hope you’re satisfied with ruining my life,” he snarled.

Spooky flicked the blood off of her blade and sheathed it. “Extremely.”

His lips curled. “Better leave that open, Hrair. Nobody slights the Hand of Inle and gets away that easily.”

“I ain’t Tamina, two-face. This ain’t even a quarter of the rabbits I got back home. If ya come knockin’, we’re gonna answer, just remember that.”

Blue sneered. “This ain’t all my rabbits I got either.”

“Shut the fuck up,  _ hlessi _ ,” barked the captain. 

Tassadar stepped forward from the ranks and put a hand on Spooky’s arm. “Come on Spookyrah, Tilly. Let’s get outta here.”

Something snapped in Blue’s face at the sound of Spooky’s name. “It was you,” he breathed. “You were the one that killed Randy. I lost my rah and my job because of  _ you _ !”

Spooky turned to face him, something biting on her lips, but she didn’t get more than half a syllable out before Blue had reached inside his jacket to produce a tiny concealed handgun, and shot her.

He was dead before he hit the ground, two bullet holes between his eyes, but something told Tilly he didn’t really care.

Spooky staggered backwards, a hand on her stomach, face twisted in pain. “Fuckin’...god dammit,” she swore once she’d finally caught her breath. “I forgot how much this sucks.”

Tilly caught her when she dropped.

  
  
  
  
  


Military lined the Hand rabbits up against the wall, hands over their heads, holding them in place while Spooky and Tilly limped their way out of the slaughterhouse. Spooky leaned on Tassadar’s shoulder, trying not to breathe too deeply, while Rosette pressed her face into the crook between Tilly’s head and neck, hands locked around her shoulders, refusing to let go.

Tilly shoved a knuckle deep in her ear, shaking her head. “Great, now I’ve got tinnitus  _ and  _ a concussion. A fantastic night’s work, guys.”

“Least ya didn’t get fuckin’ shot,” Spooky groaned. “I was havin’ a good time ‘til Bunny Foo-Foo pulled out his sidearm.”

Tassadar rubbed his bruised chest. “Tell me about it.”

“Man, that was the dumbest shit I ever saw, though,” Spooky grumbled. “He knew I was wearin’ a vest an’ that his dinky lil’ pistol wasn’t gonna kill me. He coulda walked outta here alive if he ain’t been an idiot.”

“Better to go down than to have to deal with the reparations for failing a job?”

“That sounds like some sheep-level bullshit,” Spooky grumbled. “All he accomplished is makin’ sure whoever replaces him has a vendetta that we’re gonna have to deal with sooner or later.”

“Maybe that was the point,” Tilly mumbled.

Tassadar made a face. “Can we worry about it later? I’m just ready to go home and sleep for approximately six weeks.”

Spooky slapped Tassadar over the ears, but there was no venom in it. “Hush,  _ hlessi _ . Ya can sleep in a few weeks while yer gettin’ yer ear done.”

Tassadar nearly dropped her.

  
  
  
  
  


Rosette passed out in Tilly’s lap within minutes of getting back into the car, head against Tilly’s chest, fingers clenched into her shirt and refusing to let go until she fell unconscious. Tilly allowed herself the luxury of relaxing, closing her eyes and breathing in the smell of Rosette’s fur, trying to ignore the smell of gasoline and gunpowder that still clung to her.

“Aw, I’m so glad you got her,” Pixie purred from the back seat, looking coherent if not entirely bored of the company of the military buck left to babysit her. “All in one piece, I hope.”  
“She ain’t missin’ any more toes at least,” Spooky said. 

“Sorry I missed all the action. I couldn’t hear a thing, but there was that one point where all your backup all started running all at once. Sounded exciting.”

Spooky made a face into the rear-view mirror. “Blackpaw an’ the Hand guy playin’ leader in there are both dead now. So I guess it was excitin’, yeah.”

“Forgive me for being harsh but uh, good riddance. Not a single rabbit involved in that shitshow was worth their grass.” Pixie rolled her head, digging a thumb into the muscle of her neck. “Even if I did still have a job when I get home, I’m not really sure I wanna deal with Tamina anymore. Red was the only decent thing about that warren and even then he was a rough ride.”

“Always welcome to move to Lynfort. Rent’s hell but there’s a lot less predators breathing down your neck, if that’s a concern to you,” Tilly offered. “Crixa controls pretty much all of Narn-Hain, so at least that side of the river is fairly safe.”

“I would put money on my apartment having been burnt to the ground already by Enna’s goons. I hear the Hrair down south have a really fancy hotel I might could get a room at for a few days ‘til I find somewhere to rent?”

Spooky cackled. “Listen, I already been havin’ three tenants ain’t paid rent in half a month an’ only one of ‘em’s gonna let me fuck it outta her. Yer room an’ board’s gonna be two an’ a half four-leafs a night, take it or leave it.”

“Bitch I just lost my job, I ain’t got that kinda money! I’ll just stay with Tilly, shoot.”

“I live in a studio,” Tilly said. “And the bathroom is bigger than the living area. So unless you wanna sleep in the tub-”

Pixie groaned. “I’ll just get a hotel.”

  
  
  
  
  


Tilly took the back way into Crixa HQ while Spooky rounded up her rabbits in the courtyard. She almost wished she could have seen the fireworks that undoubtedly went off when the Rah got her hands around Nildro’s traitorous throat, but the adrenaline had worn off hours ago and her body was reminding her that it was the middle of the night and she was fucking  _ exhausted _ .

“Oh, we’re here,” Rosette said, blinking sleepily in the dim light of the upstairs guest room. “I think I fell asleep.”

“Yeah,” Tilly laughed, peeling her jacket and shirt off and tossing them into the corner that served as the dirty clothes hamper. “You did. Snored the whole drive back.”

Rosette yawned. “You gonna sleep?”

Tilly pulled on some pajamas and flicked on the fan, the motor drowning out the sounds of voices beginning to filter up through the floor. “Yeah, but you’re hogging the bed.”

The kit smiled and scooted closer to the wall.

The old, creaky mattress had never felt more comfortable than in that moment. Tilly yawned huge and open-mouthed, tears springing to the corners of her eyes as she flopped her head onto the pillow. Rosette wiggled her way against Tilly’s chest, sighing as she got comfortable, breath ruffling Tilly’s fur.

“Miss Tilly?” Rosette whispered, just as Tilly was drifting off to sleep.

“Hm?”

“Are we gonna go home tomorrow?”

Tilly’s heart practically soared. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.”

There was another long moment of quiet, then the same soft whisper caught Tilly’s ear again

“Miss Tilly?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you teach me how to do that thing where you flipped up on that guy’s neck and strangled him?”

She smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

The kit hummed satisfactorily. “It was  _ super  _ cool.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

Tilly stretched sore shoulders as she adjusted the collar of her shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone. The deep red fabric reflected off of her cream fur, giving her ears a nice healthy blush, highlighting the warm tones of her tattoo. On top of the shirt she slid her jacket - the gray one. She’d remembered that Spooky had liked that one.

“Miss Tilly! I can’t find my pin!” Rosette called, walking out of the bathroom, resplendent in a dress that same colour as Tilly’s shirt, as per the kit’s request. She was pointing at her left collarbone, a very concerned look on her face. “I need it!”

Tilly stepped away from the TV screen that she was using as a mirror, over to the bed, still lying frameless on the floor. “I thought you had the box,” she called behind her as she shook out the multitude of blankets they slept in, frowning as nothing tumbled out of them but a stuffed toy and kit-sized pajamas.

“I forgot where I put it,” Rosette admitted, shuffling her feet.

Tilly scanned the tiny apartment, peering into corners, kicking at things on the floor that should have been picked up days ago but hadn’t. When she’d exhausted the search in the bed area, she moved into the kitchen, zeroing in on a small lacquered wood box set near the sink, blending in with the granite of the countertop.

“Oh,” Rosette said softly. “Right. I didn’t want to lose it so I put it somewhere I’d remember.”

Tilly mussed Rosette’s head fur. “And then you forgot.”

She opened the box, taking a moment to admire the two polished sterling silver pins nestled within, glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. She fixed one to the front of Rosette’s dress, and set the other into her own lapel. 

The last time she’d had a pin on her jacket was Spooky’s inauguration. And, thinking about it, the only reason she had two now was because one of them had been Spooky’s. They’d worn them on induction day and for special occasions, but had sat forgotten in a closet for years, until now.

Rosette held out the front of her dress, staring down at her pin, watching it glitter.

Tilly slapped her thighs, double-checking she she had her phone, keys, and wallet. “Come on, N’rithaa’s gonna be here any minute.”

The dark gray sedan was parked outside on the street, and N’rithaa leaned out of the driver’s window and waved as Tilly and Rosette turned the corner. Rosette bounced into the back seat, crawling over Ten’s lap to sit in the middle seat between him and his brother, vibrating with excitement.

“Are you scared?” She asked, beaming up at Tassadar.

He grinned. “Nah, not at all. I’m too tough to be scared.”

He looked good in his suit. It was a new one, crisp, black, complimenting the black markings on the tips of his ears and the dark gray in his fur. Instead of a pin, he wore an understated boutonniere of white primroses.

“Thought he was gonna cry when I woke him up this morning,” N’rithaa said, catching Tassadar’s offended expression in the rear-view mirror. “Hope he doesn’t pass out on the podium.”

“ _ Shut up _ mom,” he pouted, crossing his arms.

On the other side of Rosette, Ten was laughing, wincing through the pain from his just-healed shoulder. His suit was new, too, as was the ink in his ear, still shiny with protective salve. The traditional-style golden sun seemed alive, the colours were so bright and vibrant. In the center of Frith’s light was the curl of a bracken fern, the design passed from father to son. 

Rosette leaned over Ten’s lap, staring wide-eyed out of the window as they pulled into the driveway of the Crixa headquarters. It had been a month since she and Rosette had used it as a hotel slash safehouse, and Tilly hadn’t missed it, but she found a soft smile settling on her face anyway. It was bright, sunny, and warm today, Frith’s season pushing the cold weather out and bringing with it the smell of pine and fresh-mowed grass, the songs of the warm-weather birds. A perfect day to be out in the back gardens with a glass of champagne and a cigarette.

The front courtyard of the house had been freshly re-landscaped, new bunches of flowers lining the sidewalk in front of the house, the rose bushes and shrubs pruned to perfection. On either side of the double entrance doors were A-frame signs topped in huge rosettes of white flowers inset with the Crixa emblem, and beneath them, in both Lapine and Hedgerow, beautifully hand-inked lettering announcing the day’s event: Induction.

“This is a lotta fuss just for a couple new  _ silfessil _ ,” N’rithaa mused, parking the car on the grass at the end of the row of cars.

Tilly stretched wide as she stepped out of the car. “Well there’s the new Owsla too, so it’s a bit of a bigger deal than just Tassadar finally gettin’ to be a real Hrair.”

Tassadar beamed through his fur at the mention of it. It’s all he’d been talking about for two weeks, ever since his first appointment at the tattooist’s. He’d waited his whole life for this day, and now that it was here, there was not a single force on the planet that was going to stop him from gloating.

“If it ain’t Tilly gettin’ the lines then I’ll eat my tie,” N’rithaa continued. “‘Specially now them two fuckin’.”

“Language,” Tilly hissed, and Rosette cackled. “And no, I’m not holdin’ my breath. There was a reason I was an alley worker before I was shoved up in offices doing paperwork instead of negotiating, you know.”

“Yeah, but there’s also a reason why Chloe shipped your ass to Riverside, and it wasn’t entirely to beat Juliet’s ass in. You’ve been rollin’ in it since Pixie came on board; you’re nearly on top of the finance board.”

Tilly could not refuse the claims. She and Rosette were in the middle of packing up her old studio apartment and moving into a proper house in Clover Hills of all places. If her past self could see her now, a pillar of the warren and living in the upper middle class suburbs, she would call her a liar and probably try to break her nose.

As soon as they stepped through the front doors of HQ, Tassadar was whisked away by the organization staff to the ceremony room to get ready. N’rithaa, Tilly, and Rosette wandered through the parlour, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries to rabbits they hadn’t seen nor thought about in years, and for the first time they didn’t look at her like she was some kind of unsavoury insect. At some point she acquired a cup of piping hot and adequate-tasting coffee, and this time she didn’t burn her mouth.

After what felt like years, a voice crackled over an intercom system that Tilly didn’t remember ever functioning, announcing the start of the ceremony, please line up outside of the ceremony room. Tilly and Rosette walked hand in hand across the thick red carpets, settling into seats next to N’rithaa, Raszagal, and Ten near the front of the room. Rosette waved to Tassadar, standing stiff in the row of other  _ silfessil _ rabbits. He lifted a couple fingers in response, a cavalier smile on his face in an attempt to mask the fact that he was clearly about to shit his pants. Rosette cheered the loudest when he lifted his head, blood painted on his face, the words of the oath still on his lips.

N’rithaa leaned forward and grinned at Tilly with her fingers crossed as Spooky dismissed the  _ silfessil _ , sidling up to the front of the podium, mic in hand.

She looked good, Tilly thought, standing up there. Her suit was smart: black suit accented in gold, black slacks, black shirt, two buttons left undone to show the glint of her gold chain underneath. She’d worn rings today, too, thick, gold, matching the ones in her ears. Gold looked good on her. Really, anything looked good on her.

“So all y’all’re really here for me to come an’ tell y’all who the new Owsla gonna be,” she began, pacing the stage casually. “I spent a long time tryna think of who they’d be, y’know. I ain’t got to know neither Daisy much before one met the black rabbit, but I knew enough to know it wasn’t gonna be easy to find a rabbit that did ‘er job as good as she did. An’ if any y’all think I made the wrong choice, y’all can suck my dick.”

A couple chuckles rolled through the crowd. Tilly caught a couple of older rabbits make faces at the informality of the speech, but Spooky soldiered on regardless, giving less than two shits about their opinions.

She hooked her finger in a “come here” motion. “Anyway, Tilly Rivers, c’mere.”

N’rithaa stamped her foot with excitement, clamping her hands over her mouth, hiding the shit-eating grin that was undoubtedly smeared across her face. 

Tilly blinked, Spooky’s words not quite making sense in her mind.

“Yeah, c’mon, stop lookin’ at me like I just laid one on ya,” Spooky said over the microphone, now foregoing the waggling finger in favour of a fully waving hand.

Like in a dream Tilly stood and padded down the thick carpeted aisle, and up to the podium, the sound of N’rithaa’s cackle and Rosette’s attempt at a whistle following her. Spooky held a hand out to her, leading her up the steps and onto the platform as though she were escorting the queen and not the other way around.

Spooky gave her a smile so tiny that Tilly doubted anyone in the audience could see it before turning away. “Now I know what y’all’re boutta be thinkin’: ‘Aw Spooky be playin’ favourites.’ Nah. Well, a lil’, but she ain’t my new Owsla. How many y’all even know who she is?” A few hands were raised, all but two being from Riverside. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, why’d I drag ‘er up here?”

Spooky hooked an arm around Tilly’s neck, and Tilly just took it, letting Spooky pull her across the stage, because she had no idea where she should be anyway. 

“Maybe y’all know that last year Chloerah decided to expand out into the city, into Riverside, where all the good n’ juicy nightlife shit is. Nightclubs, dewlap bars, whorehouses, allat good shit, right. Tilly here is the rabbit that was chosen for the job, an’ in that time she’s done fantastic at makin’ me money. She’s got a collection of fiercely loyal rabbits that I wouldn’t mind havin’ in my own damn Owsla, but don’t worry, I ain’t stealin’ ‘em. Only thing I can complain about is that Riverside is just so fuckin’ far away; they all out there by themselves. Made it kinda hard to communicate, to know what’s goin’ out down there on the day-to-day. So,” and she paused for a heartbeat, squeezing Tilly’s shoulder. “I’m gonna let ‘er have it to herself.”

Tilly didn’t think it made sense, for a moment. Of course she would have it to herself, she was the only manager down there. Why was she making such a big deal about a position she’d had for nearly a year?

She must have had a really stupid look on her face because Spooky rolled her eyes, gently pushing Tilly away from her in mock annoyance. “I’m promotin’ ya, dumbass.”

“I’m already a high manager, I don’t really think I can go farther-”

“To  _ Rah _ .”

“To...Rah…” Tilly repeated, dumbfounded.

Spooky had already turned back to the crowd. “I’m pretty sure halfa y’all expected met to make ‘er Inner Owsla, but turns out she’s  _ real _ bad at listenin’ to her authorities. Trust me, this is gonna be easier on everyone if she’s got her own crown, her own Owsla, an’ her own territory.”

Tilly felt Spooky grab her hand and raise it as the applause erupted in the room, started with Rosette and spreading across the crowd. Even some of the old lops, though later Tilly would figure it was because they were glad to see her gone.

Spooky was grinning at her. “Better’n bein’ my lackey, eh?” she said, the mic now by her side. “Now we can do whatever we want an’ it ain’t even fraternizin’.”

“How long did you think about this decision?”

“Longer’n ya’d think an’ not near as long as ya’d hope.”

“You know this means you aren’t getting my money, right?”

“Trust me, it ain’t hurtin’ me that much. An’ besides,” Spooky said, wrapping an arm around Tilly’s waist, rubbing her chin on the top of Tilly’s head. “Ya deserve it. Yer a mama now, gotta give the lil’ rodent a halfway decent life.”

“Then I guess I gotta say thanks.”

Spooky grinned and slapped her in the back, nearly knocking her off of the stage. “Attagirl. Now get the fuck offa my podium.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Real Life Hrair**
> 
> All of the characters in this story bar a few are based off of rabbits I and some of my friends either currently own or have owned in the past. Spooky really is that much of a loose cannon, and Raszagal really does have tons of babies. Additionally, the plot of this story was loosely based upon real events in the lives of said rabbits, believe it or not. Real-life Rosette really does have toes missing off of one of her feet, though they were eaten off by a raccoon rather than cut off as blackmail. Randy really was aggressive to every doe he was presented with. And Ten really is the sweetest boy to ever live, just like his (and Tassadar’s,) dad.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my exploits and see art of these characters (and some worldbuilding notes!) on my Tumblr @catouatche, and Twitter @katouatche!


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